Steps
by Gemini Kissing
Summary: Aya x Aki The twins are on the run, but Aki learns that no matter how hard you try, you cannot outrun yourself. Twincest / Incest warning.
1. Absconding

This story contains **twincest / incest**. If you don't like it, then don't read it. Simple. Please don't flame me with words like 'wrong' and 'gross', et cetra. You're not going to change mind, so really, what would be the point.

The first chapter isn't much, but we will pick up momentum as we go along. And this is going to be moderately long...but updates are going to reflect any and all feedback I receive. Hint hint. So don't forget to hit that little 'review' button down at the bottom. : - D

Thanks!

Disclaimer: all standard disclaimers apply.

P.S. Check out my profile for more information. I have a _modest_ favorites list that's growing everyday. Go, read those wonderful stories, inspire the authors to write more. Trust me, they will love you for it!

I also have Aki / Aya themed art and wallpapers that I will be posting as soon as I find them a proper home, so check back often!!

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Absconding**

_And in today already walks tomorrow_

–Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Aya stared at the repeating pattern on the wall, her mind also falling into repeating patterns.

"Did you hear me, Aya? I know it's a lot to ask, but it really is the best way---for all of us."

Aya started, taking a deep breath. "What about Ceres?" Even now she could feel the Tennyo, pushing at the boundaries of her mind just at the sound of her brother's voice.

"I've found a way to suppress her. It's something Kagami-san came up with. I'm not sure of what it is, or how it works, but apparently it _does_ work." What he didn't mention was that he knew this because he heard a conversation he wasn't supposed to hear, about an experiment he wasn't supposed to know about.

Suppress Ceres?

Suppress Ceres...

Was such a thing possible? It seemed since her sixteenth birthday her life had stopped being her own. In a strange way, she and Ceres had come to a sort of truce---but she wouldn't stop trying to kill her brother, and for that, Aya would never accept her presence in her life.

She felt for Ceres, she feared her and she pitied her. And Ceres felt for her, was possessive and protective. But these feeling were vague and general---and too easily overcome by her rage.

So, yes. Yes, she would suppress Ceres if she could. If only to suppress the danger she was to everyone around her.

She tried to kill her brother...

Her mother...

"But what about..." Touya. Yuuhi. Suzumi...

"What, Aya?"

"Nothing."

"You're worried about everyone, right?"

It warmed her, how well he knew her. "Yes," she breathed, furtively edging closer to the phone.

"You know I'm right about this, Aya. Ceres has vowed to destroy our family, and she has the power to do just that. Okay, that family has turned against us. I'm not really worried about most of them, but I _am_ worried about _you_.

"If we stay here, the Mikages will keep coming after us. Yuuhi, Suzumi, Kiyuu-san---they will all be dragged into this...Touya, too."

Her breath caught at that, as he knew it would. And a loop of some unidentifiable emotion coiled tighter inside him. He was glad Touya was in confinement at the moment, otherwise there would be no way for them to get away.

Touya...He appreciated Touya looking out for his sister, but...

His hand clenched tighter around the receiver of the phone, the plastic creaking slightly in protest.

But Touya needed to _understand_. Aya was special. And she was vulnerable. And Touya was a part of a life that was going to hurt her.

Touya needed to stay away from _his sister_.

"Touya," she whispered faintly.

"Touya would want you to be safe, Aya," he pressed on, his gold eyebrows furrowing slightly. It wasn't like him to play on his sister's emotions---not so relentlessly anyway.

_Whatever works_, something placated softly in his mind.

Whatever works to keep Aya safe.

_( And_ _by your side. )_

_Yes_, he nodded to himself, relaxing again.

A sigh flitted through the phone. A sound, oddly enough, composed of equal amounts of relief and resignation. "You're right, Aki."

He abruptly slumped against the wall he was leaning on, feeling as if her gentle concession was a spell that had removed his bones and turned him into warm liquid.

"Aya, Aya, I'm so sorry. I love you, you know. I don't know if I ever tell you that anymore, but I really do."

Aya closed her eyes a moment and smiled weakly. "I know, Aki, and I love you, too." She opened her eyes and her smile became a trying grin. "But you definitely don't say it often enough."

A slight huff that was part amusement, and part something else. "Well, if that's how you really feel, then I'll have to take steps to prove you wrong." Whatever it was in him that had tightened at Touya's name, suddenly loosened pleasantly, sending slight fissures of pleasure through him.

They were all they had left in the world, and together they would be fine.

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know. It's about time you recognized my greatness," she said in her most haughty voice.

_You can hold me any way you like_. Came the unbidden and dark thought. He shook his head hard, pressing a tight fist down over his heart.

"Great annoyance, maybe," he muttered on auto-pilot. There was a slightly affronted 'oi!' in the background, but he went on quickly, not wanting to get diverted with unimportant details, and not wanting to examine his own thoughts too closely. "Can you be ready tonight?"

A long pause.

Tonight? Only a few hours away from now, she thought dimly. Only a few hours left...with Yuuhi, Suzumi, Kiyuu-san...

"Aya?"

Touya...

"Aya!"

Mom..."Tonight?"

Aki put his hand over his eyes, pressing down on his temples. Convincing her to go had been easier than he had anticipated. Convincing her to go now, well...

"Yes, tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that we'll be found out."

"But..."

"_You can't tell them_, Aya. They can't know what we're planning," he gentled his voice, wishing that he could take away her sadness, but at the same time, slightly envious of all the people that were there in her life now, despite everything. It seemed that all he had was her, and they couldn't even be together. Not with the Mikage family. Not with Ceres.

_(Not with Touya_?)

Not with Touya, he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I know," she finally conceded grudgingly, "and I get it. But---I just wish I could leave them a letter or something. Suzumi-san and Yuuhi have done so much for me."

"They've done so much because they _care_ for you. They _want_ you to be safe, Aya. But no one is going to be safe while we're still here. Do you want Kagami-san to hurt your friends just to get to you?" He took a shaky breath, then continued more quietly. "Do you want Ceres to kill me?"

"Of course not! Don't even say things like that," she snapped, her free hand sliding around her waist, clutching at the vulnerable flesh right above her elbow. The subtle scent of blood perfumed the air around her, while Ceres' demanding voice died in her head under the heavy weight of her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Aya," he sighed, strangely happy at her vehemence.

An almost audio gathering of her composure. "All right. I'll be ready to go tonight, and I won't tell anyone. Where do we meet?"

It was like he could breathe again, for the first time in weeks. "The bridge, where you fell, tonight when ever you can slip away unnoticed."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"And Aya..."

"Hmm," she said distractedly, thinking of never seeing Touya again. Or any of the others. Maybe someday...

"I love you."

"I love you, too. See you tonight."

* * *

**Abscond**

\_ab-skänd_\ _vi_ **[L** _abscondere_ to hide away, fr. _ab-, abs-_ + _condere_ to store up, conceal, fr. _com-_ + _dere_ to put to depart secretly and hide oneself --- **ab-scond-er** _n_

Synonyms: Run away. Escape. Break out. Leave suddenly. Make off. Flee. Take flight. Run off. Desert. Conceal. Hide. Keep hidden.

* * *

TBC... 


	2. Indefinite

Thank you, everybody that reviewed! I really appreciate it!

Blue Quartz Foxy, as always, your reviews are a pleasure and inspiration. And I agree with you on the Touya part---it's exactly as I was telling (ranting to?) one of my friends a few days ago---It's as if Yuu Watase keeps using the same paper doll for all of her leading male characters, the only thing that changes is the accessories. Granted, Touya doesn't irritate me half as bad as Tamahome did, but I agree with you 100 about his character in relation to Aya's. I have always felt that he cheapened her character. That she had so much potential, but her obsession with him made her seem weak and desperate. I have made my own theory about that for this series, but I won't get around to explaining it for several chapters yet. Hopefully, it will lay the Touya ghost to rest in this story.

Actually, Anime'sHeavenStoryteller has apologized to me, and we've agreed to disagree on this point. So I'm not letting it bother me. I even agree that this sort of relationship, in most contexts, is inappropriate. But I'm a much bigger believer in '_consenting adults_'. shrug This stuff just doesn't bother me, as long as that criterion is met.

Anyway, I hope you continue to like this work, and that the switching perspective doesn't muddle it too much. Aki, especially, has a lot of angst to work through, so we'll probably be seeing things through his eyes more often than Aya. Her conflict is more subconscious, and I've tried to make it manifest more in her actions than her actual thinking. That will come later. Besides, as we know, Aya is the more physical of the two.

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

**Indefinite**

Packing was easy. She brought nothing to this house, so really, it was only right for her to leave with nothing. A few outfits to get her through until she could buy her own. And Aki's earrings, of course. But for some reason she didn't think she was going to give them to him. Not yet anyway.

She wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but she figured she would know that moment when it came.

She placed the still-wrapped box in her bag, wedging it gently between some clothes to keep it safe. She snapped the clasp in place then slumped back on her knees, staring down at the floor.

Yuuhi was preparing dinner. When she ran into him earlier after she got off the phone, she stared at him as if startled. And she was. For one long moment she couldn't get past the thought that she may never see him again.

And then came the thought that she had been fighting all along---she was half in love with him already, and it made her sad. Maybe if she had met him before Touya...but no. Her attraction to Touya, she couldn't explain it. It was instantaneous, without rhyme and reason, and almost painful. She felt as if something was drawing her to him, gravity, fate, something irresistible.

Gods, Touya---how was she supposed to live, never seeing him again?

Her nails bit into her palm as she shook her head once. If she stayed, she probably wouldn't live much longer anyway. Besides, this wasn't definite. Maybe someday...

She loosened her fist and sighed. She couldn't allow herself to think about all that, it would only make it harder.

Think about Aki, she instructed, crawling over to her futon and laying down. Poor Aki, who was just as trapped as she was, if not more. Not allowed to make his own decisions, or go where he wanted, surrounded by people who were just as good as enemies.

She was being hunted, yes, but she still had some control of the reigns of her life. She had friends, and freedom---well, mostly.

But if she and Aki could pull this off...

She stared up at the shadowed ceiling, imaging their life far away from here. Maybe sad and lonely at first, but they would still have each other, and they would get through.

And maybe someday...

She shook her head furiously and flung herself up from the futon, springing back into motion. She was going to clean. She _needed_ to clean. Clean away every trace of herself in this bedroom...

It'll be as if she hadn't been there at all...

* * *

**Indefinite**

Not definite : as **a** _of a grammatical modifier_ : typically designating an unidentified or not immediately identifiable person or thing **b** : not precise : vague **c** : having no exact limits

Synonyms: Imprecise. Vague. Hazy. Wooly. Unclear. Blurred. Indistinct. Unspecified. Unknown. Indeterminate. Open-ended. Undefined. Uncertain. Noncommittal. Confused. Unsettled. Confusing.

* * *

TBC... 


	3. Concession

And, because it's been awhile, and the previous chapter was so short, here is the next part! Enjoy!

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

**Concession**

The appointed place, the appointed time came. Aki shifted his weight from foot to foot, running nervous fingers through his already mussed hair. The streetlight shining down on it turned it into a burnished halo, but it also stretched his shadow out on the concrete until its shape only vaguely resembled a man. He stared at it blindly a moment, and then shifted his gaze uneasily up, trying to find stars through the clouds. It was easier to see the stars from his grandfather's house.

He flinched imperceptibly, just a slight flexing of his shoulders. His grandfather---two different people in his mind. A frail, doting old man from his youth, bringing gifts, and candies, and stories...

And the cold-hearted man that could orchestrate the murder of his own granddaughter. Who could kill his own son. As far as he was concerned, his grandfather was just as dead as his father. No. It was more likely that he had never even existed. As far as he was concerned, Aya was it. His only family, the only person he could trust.

The one he needed to protect.

The one he _needed_.

He could keep going, _because of her_. He could be strong, _for her_. And he would.

Minutes passed. Long minutes where his thoughts clamored around him, and he let them whirl in an amorphous storm. He didn't listen, and he didn't examine, he was afraid that if he focused too hard on what was going on in his own mind, then the tempest would blow out of control and destroy everything in its path. Better to let the storm simmer and linger, then allow it to gather strength enough to sweep the foundation out from under him.

_Where is she??_

She said she would be here, and she would. He knew that. But how long did it take those people in that house to fall asleep?

He didn't like being out in the open here. On the bridge, with only two paths to choose, three if you counted certain injury---he could easily be spotted, surrounded, captured.

But this is where he said he would meet her, and this is where he would wait.

Aya.

He went still a long moment, sliding his hands slowly down into his pockets and taking a calmer stance.

Aya, she was all he needed. Things were strange now, things were a nightmare, but once Aya was safe, he knew he would finally be able to rest. He would take her far away from this place, where the Mikage name meant nothing, and someday things might be okay again.

_( Take_ _her far away, from Touya and Yuuhi...with only you to rely on?... )_

NO. He shook his head once sharply. If in answer to that sweetly dark voice, or to try to dislodge its presence from his life, not even he was certain.

All of this, Ceres, Touya, living in the Mikage building---it was doing strange things to him. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. Tamping down his reflexive denials, he let the thought slowly come.

_Is this strange obsession I have with my sister...overshadowing my decisions?_

The storm of defensive excuses instantly picked up in his mind, tossing destructive half-thoughts and ripping at the precarious balance he had managed to maintain. He stood still and let them rage, swaying slowly with their force instead of trying to withstand them all. And after awhile, the fury calmed, the swirling, stinging winds died, and he was left with the ringing taste of...

_Maybe_.

Then the sudden justifications.

_But I would never hurt Aya! I would never force her to do anything she doesn't want to do._

_I would never hurt her._

_Never hurt her._

_Never._

_( But_ _you want her. )_

A sharp breath, as if he had been punched in the gut. He covered his eyes with his right hand, pressing his fingers down hard.

He stood there for several long moments, tense, but feeling as if he was miles above the ground and flapping in the breeze.

Then slowly, oh so slowly, he relaxed. He dropped his hand and stared up at the waning moon.

_Yes_.

A noise, and then Aya appeared at the end of the bridge, her hair glowing a burnished gold...

A beacon in the dark night.

* * *

**Concession**

**1 a** the act or instance of conceding **b** : the admitting of a point claimed in argument **2** : something conceded: **a** : acknowledgement, admission **b** : grant

Synonyms: Allowance. Dispensation. Indulgence. Compromise. Special consideration. Recognition. Yielding. Surrendering. Granting. Giving way.

* * *

TBC... 


	4. Bridge

Okay, I don't have much time, so I'll get right to the point. I'm so incredibly sorry about the lack of updates. I haven't abandoned this story, and I'm not going to. My biggest excuses are that I work full-time, I'm an artist who got bit with inspiration (some of you will be happy to know that much of my new art has been illustrations for this story...still haven't got a home lined up for them though...), and probably the biggest of all: dial-up internet. It is an absolute chore sometimes just to get online, so I don't really do it often. But I haven't stopped writing this story. In fact, I'm probably up there around the twenty-something chapters mark. In very rough draft. Written, not typed. So, I still have much work to be done on them. I will try to get them out in a more timely manner from now on. I promise.

That aside, I was really touched by all the reviews. I mean really. Thank you all, your words mean so much to me. I hope you continue to like my story. I'm really enjoying writing it. It seems I have found a muse in Aki. I find myself falling more and more in love with his character, cannon and my own spinnings on what might have been. I hope you all are liking him as well.

Btw, just a note real quick to Reilly Black: I have saved your fic to read the next time I have a moment to get online. I am definitely interested. Although I'm not sure how I feel about an Aya/Aki story where they're unrelated (the angst/drama of that taboo is part of what has drawn me to the pairing after all), I will certainly check it out. I'm not sure what I can tell you to get through writer's block, as I too suffer from it from time to time. The best thing I've found is just to write, and not think too hard about what's going to happen next. Sometimes it works for me, sometimes it doesn't. But anyway, I just wanted to give you a quick response to let you know that I am going to read your story.

Anyway, I think I've made everyone wait long enough. On with the story!

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

**Bridge**

"You can't be serious." Aya turned the single sheet of printer paper over and over in her hands. Then she noticed something strange--Ceres was silent.

Her eyes shot up to her brother's, wide with surprise and wonder. And not a little amount of fear. It wasn't as if Ceres was loquacious, but since they had unbound that box at her grandfather's house, and in turn unbound the past sleeping inside her, the Celestial Maiden had no problem whatsoever in expressing what she thought, and what she knew, and what she _expected_. Especially when Aya's twin brother was within view. To suddenly have her silence...well, it was a little unsettling.

But NOT unwelcome.

"What is it," she whispered, quieter, her fingers gentling on the pure white paper, almost reverently.

Aki stared down at it, too, traced the curves with his eyes, and felt himself growing quieter as well. "It's sort of like a ward or spell-scroll. But apparently the spell rests in the actual lines of the symbol. I'm not sure what it all means, but it's old. The Kurata family has been marking their daughters with it for hundreds of years. The Tennyo blood is passed down, but doesn't manifest in physical form." He frowned slightly, his eyes full of distant thoughts and bitterness. "The Kurata's never kill their daughters. They're treated with honour and respect, as the descendents of a Celestial Maiden should be."

He hesitated, then reached out and touched a lock of her gold hair as the wind played with it. "I'm glad we're getting away from the Mikage family, Aya. I won't allow them to hurt you."

He dropped his hand almost abruptly, taking a small step back from her and turning to stare off into the shadowed distance. Soon morning would be peaking over the horizon, not that you could really see much of a horizon from here.

Aya glanced at him curiously at the move, but thought nothing more on it as the ward drew her eyes once again. It seems she had seen this image before, but she couldn't force the memory to the front of her mind...

Aki's hand fisted shakily at his side, but he quickly shoved it in his pocket and bit his lip.

"This is wonderful," she went on obliviously, then pouted slightly, "but impractical. I can't carry this around for the rest of my life, Aki." She waved the sheet at him, as if to make her point.

"You don't have to, Aya. Listen, let's get out of the open, and I'll explain the rest to you, okay?"

"Okay," she said without hesitation, turning to follow him back across the bridge.

**Bridge**

_n_ **1** **a :** a structure carrying a roadway over a depression or obstacle **b :** a time, place, or means of connection or transition **2** something resembling a bridge in form or function **3** something that fills a gap

_vt_ **1**** :** to make a bridge over or across; also : to traverse by a bridge **2 :** to provide with a bridge

To find a way of getting over, as a difficulty; Anything supported at the ends, which serves to keep some other thing from resting upon the object spanned, as in engraving, watchmaking, etc., or which forms a platform or staging over which something passes or is conveyed.To open or make a passage, as by a bridge.Connect or reduce the distance between

Synonyms: viaduct, overpass, link, connection, conduit, association, channel, passage, join, relation, crossing...

TBC...


	5. Threshold

And now for something completely different. I think you can see why this part needed to be separated from the last. Though both are so short. But hey, two updates at once! I promise that not all the chapters are going to be this short.

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Threshold**

A motel room, somewhere between where they were and where they wanted to be. Moonlight mixes with streetlight, and both edge the drawn drapes, casting strange shadows on the floor.

Inside the room are two blonde children, both fair, both quiet, both staring across at each other as if looking into a mirror.

The female examines the room unabashedly, walking the perimeter and opening drawers, without looking for anything in particular.

The male remains in place, standing just inside the threshold with his arms drawn around him, as if to ward off or contain. His pale eyes follow the female, visually stalking her path in the limited space, while at the same time, steadfastly ignoring the queen-size bed--made up to perfection and strategically placed in the centre of everything.

He thinks if he ignores what's right in front of him, then he won't have to deal with it. But still, his eyes follow her, and his hands tighten on his own arms--

And in this action it becomes clear that he is neither warding nor containing, but reminding himself of _who_ he is and what he _cannot_ reach for.

The female finally stills, hesitating in one step between light and shadow, then turns back to her brother. Her eyes catch his, and they are both sad and relieved.

_I've missed you._

_I cried for you._

_I'm glad you're alright._

_I'm glad I'm not alone anymore._

_I need you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

The room is silent, yet cluttered with unspoken words. The male sighs and closes his eyes. Clouds pass over the moon, and for one long moment, the shadows deepen into darkness.

But then, the clouds pass.

And so does the darkness.

**Threshold**

_n_ **1 :** the plank, stone, or piece of timber that lies under a door **:** sill **2 a :** gate, door **b (1) :** end, boundary; _specif_ **:** the end of a runway **(2) :** the place or point of entering or beginning **:** outset; as, the threshold of life.the starting point for a new state or experience;** 3 :** the point at which a physiological or psychological affect begins to be produced of consciousness : the smallest detectable sensation

Synonyms: Doorsill. Doorstep. Entrance. Entry. Start. Commencement. Verge. Brink. Edge. Dawn. Beginning. Onset. Inception. Limit. Maximum.

TBC...


	6. Siren

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Siren**

Aya blushed hotly as she undid the button of her skirt, fingers fumbling shakily across her hip. She couldn't meet her brother's eyes as she pushed the skirt down a few inches, placing her right hand flat over her stomach to keep the coarse material in place, but letting it gape in the back enough to expose the top band of her panties.

With a deep breath and squaring of her shoulders, she shuffled over to the bed, lifting one knee up and placing it down on the cheap duvet. She squeaked, jerking back slightly, and only just managing to keep her precarious balance.

"What is it," came a whisper from a few feet behind her, startling her enough that her shoulders twitched.

She turned her head and smiled bashfully at her brother. "Nothing, just static electricity." She wiggled her socked toes for emphasis.

Aki's eyes were dark, and he wore a neutral expression that told her nothing about what he was thinking. But he nodded once to convey that he understood, or maybe that he accepted her explanation. Or maybe he was telling her to get a move on it.

With a tiny smile she turned back to the task at hand, crawling up onto the bed and pulling one of the plain white pillows to her chest. She lay down on her stomach, taking care to tuck her skirt under her modestly. She curled her arms around the pillow, and waited.

( ) *

Aki felt his breath grow shallow despite his best efforts, as he watched his sister's hands slowly move to her hip. It was one of those skirts that zipped up the side, falling into stiff pleats that bespoke primness, but with a hem that said something else altogether.

That hem slipped down a few more inches, and with a start he realized that he had been staring at her knees, imaging how they would feel under his hands. Or against his sides .

He looked away sharply, counting slowly in his head and forcing his breath to pace with each number.

Sister, sister, he reminded, his unease growing as his pulse actually sped up at that utterance, rather than slow down as it was supposed to.

(_Just accept it. You'll feel better if you do. Less conflicted..._)

_No_. He knew the truth, but if he stopped pushing the idea away, even for a second, he knew that it would change everything. If he let the thought become real to him, he knew he would then probably try to make _it_ real in life as well.

_And Aya doesn't feel the same way. I won't force my feelings on her._

(_What if she did feel the same way?_)

A flood of images.

Aya below him, above him, her arms reaching out to him, her mouth against his, her hands on his body.

A siren's song of emotions, dragging him mentally closer to that truth, holding his breath hostage in his throat. He felt his eyes widening reflexively, the pupils growing like black holes.

_Just a touch_, that dark voice whispered in his ear, _just a __**taste**_.

( _What_ _would you give to have her as your own?_ )

( _What_ _would you do?_ )

He came to suddenly, at his sister's gasp, his head jerking up sharply. To his utter shock, he realized he had advanced on her and the bed a couple of steps, his hand half out-stretched, as if reaching for her.

Fisting his hand and digging his nails into his palm until the flesh gave and bled, he forced whatever expression that shadowed his face away, trying hurriedly to rearrange it into what he hoped was something neutral.

"What is it?"

She turned to him, looking adorably subdued, and wiggled her little toes. "Nothing, just static electricity."

Not quite understanding her words, and still trying to shake away those clinging whispers of temptation, he nodded once.

Her smile became less embarrassed and more pronounced, more _her_. She turned back to the bed and her skirt dipped a few more centimeters---not enough to measure, but enough for him to notice. He seemed to notice everything about her now.

Like the long length of her legs, the seemingly soft hollow behind her knees as she crawled up onto the bed. The strength of her arms, the fall of her hair...

He looked away quickly, then just as quickly looked back, not being able to restrain himself enough to ignore what he could so clearly see.

( _What_ _you want to see..._ )

He wanted to cry. He wanted to run far away from here. He wanted to shove his sister at Touya and shout, 'Protect her from me!'...

Tucking her skirt down modestly and pulling her commandeered pillow closer to her chest, Aya situated herself on her stomach in the centre of that spacious bed. She turned her head, resting it on her arm in a gesture that was strangely caught between the innocence of youth, and the beguiling games of seduction that adults played. All unconsciously. Her hair fell into her eyes, across her small shoulders, it pooled around her face like a halo of gold. She looked up at him.

He wanted to be on that bed!

He was already at the edge of it before he realized, his knee sinking the mattress under his weight. He hesitated only for a second at the rapid beating of his heart, then crawled up.

**Siren**

_n_ **1** **:** one of a group of creatures in Greek mythology that lured mariners to destruction by their singing **2 a :** woman who sings with bewitching sweetness **b :** a temptingly beautiful woman; _esp_ : one who is insidiously seductive : temptress **3 :** a device for producing a penetrating warning sound

_adj_ **:** of or relating to a siren : enticing, bewitching

siren song _n_ **:** an alluring utterance or appeal; _esp_ : one that is seductive or deceptive

Synonyms: Alarm. Warning. Beacon. Temptress. A dangerous, bewitching woman.

**TBC...**


	7. Safe

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Safe**

When it became too difficult to keep track of him with her eyes, Aya turned her head back and hugged the uniformly white motel pillow to her, creasing its spotless pillowcase in her nervous fingers.

The bed shifted under her with her brother's weight, dipping her one way and then the other, before settling.

"Aya," he whispered, and gooseflesh broke out on her bare arms at the sound---he didn't sound quite like himself anymore. His voice was deeper, rougher, and spoke to something unknown in her---a barest touch on her spine.

"What is it," she whispered back, hesitant at the sound of her own voice. It didn't quite sound like her either.

"Hmm?" he murmured, then took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he sounded like himself once more. Like her brother. "I'm going to lift your shirt up, just a little..."

She frowned slightly into the pillow, but kept her eyes closed. Then she was puzzled to realize that she _had_ closed her eyes. She shrugged, shifting her shoulders slightly. "Okay."

A long pause, filled with silence, and distant traffic filtered through the thin walls. Then a tentative touch on the small of her back, the gentle, slow slide of cloth.

His fingers were cool on her over-heated skin, slipping under the hem of her blouse and lightly easing the thin material up.

"Lift up," he instructed, tugging on her shirt a little, and she moved to obey, arching her back. The cloth bunched under her, stopping just below her breast and exposing the dip of her back, and a little lower.

A single finger traced slowly down her spine, but before she could process or react, he moved, throwing one leg over her and straddling the backs of her knees.

Her heart began beating harder in her chest, but she couldn't understand why. Other than the fact that it was a blatantly dominant pose---And brothers weren't to be trusted when they had the upper-hand, she concluded fondly in her own head, relaxing and conveniently forgetting that trickle of sensation that had shot through her when she sensed his weight bearing down on her. Not heavy or restricting...but inescapably _there_.

"Relax, Aya," he whispered, petting a gentle hand over her tangled hair. "We don't have to do this if you really don't want to."

Her ribs expanded noticeably as she took a deep breath. She hadn't even noticed that she had tensed up. With a half-hearted count to ten, she forced herself to relax, uncurling her hands and smoothing them over the duvet. She found a slight rip in the material, and focused on it, allowing her mind to draw up vague lines and scenarios to explain how it had gotten there. Maybe someone had a nightmare; maybe a pair of playful lovers had played 'tug 'o war' with it. Maybe someone...

Seconds later she was calm again. More than that, she was sleepy.

So long running from one tragedy to the next, witnessing one horror after another. In this anonymous motel room, Ceres quiet under the power of the seal, with only her brother, whom she trusted implicitly, she felt...safe. Safe, for the first time in weeks.

She practically melted into the mattress in contentment, completely going boneless and closing her eyes again. This wasn't so bad, being on the run. Other things and other times might be, but this moment?

Not bad.

* * *

**Safe**

_Vt_ **1 :** freed from harm or risk : unhurt **2 a :** secure from threat of danger, harm, or loss : healthy, sound : not threatening danger : harmless : cautious : trustworthy : To render safe; to make right. A place for keeping things in safety : Conferring safety; securing from harm; not exposing to danger; confining securely; to be relied upon; not dangerous; as, a safe harbor; a safe bridge, etc. : of an undertaking. Suggests present or immediate freedom from threatening harm; implies freedom from anxiety or apprehension of danger or risk

Synonyms: Secure. Unendangered. Sure. Guarded. Benign. Unmarked. Free from danger. Protected. In safe hands. Out of harm's way. Innocent. Dependable. Trustworthy.

TBC...


	8. Envisage

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Envisage**

This was bad. This was _real_ bad. There was a golden-haired angel innocently spread across the bed, and a little devil sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear.

Except...the devil didn't exactly _feel_ little, and the 'angel' was his twin sister. So innocent and trusting---why couldn't she have been more suspicious of him?

He was suspicious...

When did he start seeing her differently? He couldn't remember. He was afraid, afraid that he had always seen her this way, and it was just their world that was suddenly different, casting light on his true emotions.

His true emotions...what were they?

_NO_.

He instantly scrambled back from that question; he wasn't ready for the answer. He was never going to be ready for that answer, no matter what it was.

And yet, he was doing _something_...something less than innocent, no matter how he tried to hide his intentions. He _knew_ it.

But he didn't know how to stop.

( _You_ _don't want to stop._ )

He _did_ want to stop. It wasn't right.

( _Who_ _says?_ )

_Everyone_, he thought. _Everyone says it's not right. Brothers and sisters are not supposed to---_

( _And_ _who are they to decide? Kagami-san said it best, she is your---_)

_NO_.

( _Yes. Look at history. This type of relationship isn't completely uncommon. Look at the gods, many of the divine pairs are brother and sister. Kings and queens marry into their own families. Princes and princesses. Even cats and dogs will breed with their own---_)

_NO. Mythology isn't true. I'm not royalty. I'm not an animal. I'm not!_

_I love Aya. I only want her to be safe and happy._

( _What_ _if she feels the same..._ )

Aki froze at that, not daring to breathe. He just knelt there, waiting for that sweetly poisoned voice to continue, as he knew it would.

( _What_ _if she loves you? What if she...__**wants**__ you?_ )

"Aya..."

He tried not to think about it, not to see the things that could happen if that _were_ true. But it was impossible for those words not to spark, and for those sparks not to follow lines of black powder in his mind until they exploded.

For one long second it was like he was seeing everything through a straw, distant and not quite real, and then it all burst into focus. The same bed, the same stance...the same beautiful girl.

The devil was in the details.

Aya lay sprawled on her back, her limbs languid, the sweep of her eyelashes lazy. She gave him a look like the moon behind clouds, or the first star winking into existence as the night descended. A look full of mystery and power, a delicate felinity that reached out ghostly arms and embraced some unknown part of him, drawing him closer.

He _was_ moving closer, though his feet didn't seem to move at all. He was on the bed, and everything shifted beneathe his hands and knees, changed, but he didn't care. She was still the same.

She would always be the same. And she would always call to him. For a moment, even within the dream, there was a dream. A flash of dappled light on wet ivory skin. A turning of gold eyes that were both innocent and beguiling.

But then the image was just as suddenly gone, and Aya was touching him, her soft fingers on his face, down over his lips, and he parted them for her, placing tiny kisses on her fingertips. She pushed up with one arm and her hair moved like living-silk, catching stray moonbeams, or perhaps creating them.

"Aniki," she whispered, and it didn't startle him. It was a prayer on her lips, an endearment, a riddle.

"What is it," she asked, and she didn't sound at all like his loud, brash sister. Her voice was hushed in the dim, warm room, sending a twitch of sensation right to the very base of his spine. Gooseflesh broke out on his arms.

"Hmm." His eyes focused on his sister, only to find that he was kneeling beside her on the bed, and she had asked him a question.

_What was it?!_

He needed to get a hold of himself, and fast.

"I'm going to lift your shirt up, just a little..."

She paused a long moment, and he wondered absently if she had fallen asleep, but then her shoulders shifted in a strangely relaxed move, and he had the sudden image of smoothing his hands over those shoulders, of holding her down...

"Okay."

He shook the image away sharply, but it didn't want to let go.

_Pull yourself together, Aki, damn it._

He reached out and gently splayed his hand over the small of her back. He dragged his fingers down, then under the hem, slowly pushing the cloth up, his fingertips tingling with the feel of her skin, silken-soft, and very warm.

"Lift up," he whispered, and she did, arching her back slightly and skewing the fall of her skirt just a little more.

He was beginning to feel dizzy. His hand reached out on its own, tracing a slow, sensual caress down the exposed path of her spine.

He was beginning to feel...

Without warning he straddled the backs of her knees, making sure not to actually put any pressure on her.

She immediately squirmed, burying her face in the pillow and squeezing her knees together. Her shoulders were so stiff---he knew, even if she didn't consciously think it, she recognized the suggestiveness and implied aggression of his pose. He hadn't meant it that way.

Had he?

The fact that he even had to ask himself that question was answer enough. He bit his tongue hard in warning, using the pain to steady his heartbeat and even out his breath.

Then there was the peculiar feeling that he was literally pulling two halves of himself back together.

He could do this. He _would_ do this. And he would stop acting as if he was nothing more than some animal without any higher brain functions.

_I am her brother. I will not do anything to make her feel as if she can't trust me_.

Pretty words. And he meant them.

He always meant them.

But in the next second he turned his head just slightly, and caught the dim glow of the single table lamp. Its light was feeble, but it was just enough to expose the path his hands were _supposed_ to take.

Too bad that path ran parallel to the path he _wanted_ to take.

A mental slap. A mental shout at himself. If he didn't stop thinking in such words, then he knew it wouldn't be long before he started acting in them.

_That wasn't allowed._

He was so furious with himself.

_Aya._ _Think about Aya. Your feelings don't matter. And you better start remembering that_.

Something in him rebelled violently, but the rest of him finally settled down, finally allowed him to take a breath.

His eyes dimmed to gentle warmth, and he combed his fingers though her hair. There was a volcano of affection within him, bubbling closer to the surface. This is always how his sister made him feel. This is _always_ how he should feel.

"Relax, Aya," he whispered, "We don't have to do this if you really don't want to."

And they didn't. He would take the risk of dying at Ceres' hand, if he knew it would benefit Aya in some way. More and more, everyday, he felt as if there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his sister.

She said nothing, but slowly, muscle by muscle, she relaxed into the bed, uncurling her limbs from the pillow and instead cuddling it to her loosely. He caught the sight of a tiny, warm curve to her lips, before she turned just enough and a lock of gold hair fell to hide her face.

He smiled too, he couldn't help it. When Aya was happy, she was like a child. All the world was stripped away, to reveal something both passionate and innocent. And in those moments, she was nothing short of...infectious.

And he had no will to resist.

She shuddered once, when he first applied the pen to her back, but she lay still while he worked.

Ten minutes later, he sat back up and winced, capping the pen then rubbing painfully at his neck. It felt as if someone had been slowly trying to separate his head from his shoulders, by simply pulling at it with their bare hands. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was quickly being out-weighed by...

Accomplishment.

"It's done, Aya," he said with pained relief, quickly slinging his leg back over and getting up before he could be dragged down into more suggestive thoughts.

Aya didn't react, other than to curl her legs up closer to her body and press her head into the now mal-shaped pillow.

"Aya? Did you hear me?" He backed up off the bed, then came around to the other side where he could see her face, though her hair still played peek-a-boo with him.

Aya. His lips formed the name, but he didn't take that last step to say it. Speaking seemed beyond him at the moment. Something clenched in his chest at the sight of her lashes resting so peacefully against the curve of her cheek. The sensation was nearly painful, but it felt amazing, too, constricting his heart until he felt almost as if couldn't breathe.

It was as if she had given him a gift, just by falling asleep. He sat down absently on the edge of the bed, staring. Just watching her breathe---in and out in and out---It was like all his troubles and worries, all his fears slid right off his shoulders. His neck didn't hurt anymore. His conscience wasn't clawing at him. Everything was perfect and quiet, everything was _okay_.

He reached out a steady hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, left his fingers to linger on the soft skin of her throat. Her heartbeat thumped slow and even, a muted lullaby to calm the darkness inside him.

Time passed and shadows shifted across the floor, Aki remained in place and watched his sister with dreamy, sleepy eyes.

He was edging closer and closer to that line of no return, but for the moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

**Envisage**

_vt_ : to have a mental picture of esp. in advance of realization : form a mental image of something that is not present or that is not the case : To look in the face of; to apprehend; to regard.

Synonyms: Imagine. Conceive of. Ideate. Envision. Foresee. Predict. Visualize. Picture. See. Awake. Conjure up. Foreglimpse. Realize. Comprehend.

TBC...


	9. Tell

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Tell**

Music and colour.

Kaedes parents were gone for the weekend, and they were having a karaoke party. Kaedes older brother was more than happy to provide alcohol, as long as he was allowed to take part. Aya was all for that, always ready to try something new.

Of course, Aki didnt want to. Sometimes she thought of him as her better half---smarter, calmer. She always seemed to forget that her brother was _always_ right. It didnt matter if he was telling her not to climb that tall old pine tree, or that they shouldnt be drinking. In the end, he was _always_ right.

Aya was used to close-calls. She was also used to that look from her brother that said I told you so.

Aki, come dance with us, Aya sing-songed while many of her girlfriends ears perked up in interest. She wondered half the time if she had so many friends because they actually liked her, or because they liked her brother.

Aki shook his head stubbornly and jerked his hand free of hers. He glared mutedly at her, letting her know that he was still sulking about her dragging him into this. Aki had wanted to study for the exam they were having soon, but Aya had absolutely refused to leave him alone until he agreed to come with her.

So there he was. And here she was. And there was Kaedes brother, always edging closer to her.

A song began to play, a melody she didnt remember, but she knew Aki liked it. So she flung herself down on the couch beside him, shouting the words with little care for tone.

What words?

She didnt remember.

Then everyone was sitting in a circle, like show and tell. And it _was_ show and tell. They were going to show how brave they were, how far they would go for the sake of face in front of their friends. And their friends were all going to tell.

_They could tell._

They were pushing her, pushing him, trapping them in the circle, and every where she looked there were faces. Some she knew. Some she didnt.

Aki smiled at her, gently, embarrassed. I dare you, he said.

And she moved, reaching out to him. He reached for her, too. She offered her lips, and he took them without hesitation.

_Wait_, she thought, as he cupped the back of her neck steadily and deepened the kiss.

_Wait! This isnt how it happened!_

But it was happening, and she was suddenly in two places at the same time. She was there, in her brothers arms, kissing him, pulling at him, and feeling treacherous desire drag her down into an undertow of inescapable sensation. And she was watching, seeing colour and gold, and feeling shock, and a strange sort of curiosity.

The kiss went on. The embrace pulled her closer to Aki. He was like a line of fire against her body. Hard and soft. Skin and cloth. And yet, her hands were cold and empty as they grasped her elbows, as she clutched at her stomach and tried to physically force the emotions away.

His hand was in her hair, guiding her movements, tangling them together.

His hand was on her hip, anchoring her to the moment, urging her closer and closer.

She stood across the empty living room and watched him press her slowly back, sprawling her across the floor and following her down without once breaking their connection. The carpet was strangely soft beneathe her. His hair tickled her face, his scent surrounded her, a heady perfume of love and passion, and Aki.

_He tasted so good_.

He drew back and she followed, catching his breath and closing her mouth over his in a brief, chaste kiss. Then her lips were on his face, his jaw, she bit his ear sharply, and he gasped against hers, panting hard as his hips pushed forward reflexively.

Aya stumbled on her feet, falling back against the wall as a double-edged blade of desire and shock stabbed right through her gut. She slumped back against that wall, trying to catch her breath and cage her sanity at the same time.

But they didnt stop.

_She_ didnt stop.

She turned, pressing her hands and face against the wall, squeezing her eyes down tight as her heart tried to beat outside of her chest.

His hands slid down to the small of her back, then they tightened, dragging her hips up and closer, even as he pressed down in one rolling motion.

She shuddered violently, her nails digging into the flaking dry-wall.

He gently grasped her knee and drew it over his hip. He settled right into the cradle of her legs, a seemingly perfect fit, and she cried out, falling limply down the wall until she was a rag doll on her knees. Her head hung parallel with her shoulders; her gold hair curtained her face in disheveled strands.

He rocked gently against her. Hot breaths in her ear.

She couldnt _breathe._

She stared, unfocused, at the cold floor. Her lips parted, her eyes slowly closed, and she..._gave up_.

Instantly she felt coils of emotion wrap around her, dragging her with silken thread to her mirror image. Pulling her limbs together, binding her to it.

She opened her eyes and stared up into faultless (guiltless) lavender, long gold lashes, drowning emotion.

_He tasted so good._

There was a snap, like that of a camera going off, and suddenly they were on a stage and everybody

_was staring at them._

Aya woke with a soft cry, her body still throbbing, the unease still grasping at her breath.

_What was that?! What the hell- was that?!_

_That wasnt how it happened at all._

Though shed had variations of this dream before, it had never gone quite like that.

Never beyond a kiss.

And never a kiss like _that_.

She hadnt ever given in before either, which was what really worried her.

_No. No. No. Nothing to worry about. Its just all this stress. Aki has always been my anchor in this world. Always been my safety net. Thats all the dream is saying._

And dreams...they dont always have to mean anything. Shed had dreams like that before, with complete strangers even.

Except, that she hadnt.

She frowned, turning her face into the soft material beneathe her. It shifted in response, which definitely wasnt supposed to happen.

She drew back slowly, blinking just as slowly. Had she stopped to think about it she would have realized that she had been breathing in a very familiar scent, drifting steadily in a very familiar way.

An angel. Her brother was sharp, and often far too serious for his own good, but in that moment he was...an angel. And it hurt her, because she couldnt remember the last time she had seen him so relaxed.

She promptly forgot her dream and stared at him. Her heart swelled until it lodged painfully in her throat.

But it made her _so happy_.

_Aki, hes really suffered, just as much as I have. Im glad hes sleeping so peacefully_.

He turned his head slightly, his breath fanning over her face. And suddenly his parted lips were mere inches from her own. And her dream came rushing back to the surface, all those strange emotions and half thoughts crowding back into her mind until she _couldnt think_.

His taste...

Did he really taste like that? Like love and passion, and something _else_? Something sweet and drugging...

And for one moment she thought about it, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep.

What did he taste like, came that fleeting question again. A whisper far, far in the distance.

Good, she thought dreamily. He tastes like _Aki_.

She fell, the soft arms of sleep rocking her gently as the scent of her best friend comforted her. She wouldnt remember the dream or her musings in the morning, but she would wake up feeling so much lighter than the day before.

And for a moment, later in the day, when Aki smiled at her for some unimportant detail, she would pause, and her eyes would involuntarily catch on the curve of his lips. And she would return that smile with warmth and love...

Even as it felt as if the path was shifting under her feet.

* * *

**Tell**

_vt_ **1 :** count, enumerate **2 a :** to relate in detail : narrate **b :** say, utter **3 a** : to make known, divulge, reveal **b :** to express in words **4 a : **to report to : inform : to acquaint to; to teach **b :** to assure emphatically **5 :** order, direct **6 :** to ascertain by observing : find out ; to discover : to regard : to reckon : to value

_vi_ **1**** :** to give an account **2 :** to act as a talebearer **3 :** to take effect : have a marked effect **4 :** to serve as evidence or indication. To make known; to publish; to disclose; to divulge : discern or comprehend : A revealing mannerism or behaviour.

Synonyms: To communicate. Impart. Reveal. Disclose. Let Know. Advise. Put in the picture. Enlighten. Convey. Impart. Expose. Distinguish. Uncover. Discover. Have an effect. Make itself felt. Reveal itself. Betray. Tell on. Tattle. Confess.

TBC...


	10. Essence

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Essence**

_Whats the use in pretending_?

Hmm, he muttered distractedly, playing with the silky strap of her nightgown. Fireflies flitted around her gold hair, lighting up the night around them.

_Youre you, arent you? And Im me._

I dont know who I am, he whispered forlornly, pressing his words against her shoulder where that strap had once been. His eyes were closed now, but he could still see those fireflies, could still see the serene curve of her lips.

_I know who you are_, she said, without moving her mouth. Then crawled over him, stretched over him. There were stars in the sky now.

_You always know me_, he said, or thought, or maybe he lived it all in a past life.

_Who are you?_

_Yours. Always yours._

She smiled down at him.

Aki woke the way one was supposed to. Warmly, slowly, feeling as if he had all the time in the world to just enjoy the moment. He was lying on his side, but that wasnt where hed started. And the edge of the bed seemed a lot farther away. At least, on his side. He went still at that, coming completely awake.

The first thing he noticed was Ayas scent, all around him. And why wouldnt it be, he berated himself irately. His face was practically buried in her hair.

His second realization hit him more like an epiphany. The length of her body, from her back to her ankles, was pressed against him. His heart beat rapidly between her shoulder blades, her foot had hooked around his ankles, like a living shackle, pressing his knee gently between her legs.

His hand had somehow found its way under her shirt, and there was naked, warm flesh resting in the cup of his palm. It beat steadily, slow with the cadence of a restful sleep.

Later he would deny it to himself in its entirety, but for the moment he calmed down and...reveled. He took deep, slow breaths, taking in as much of her scent as possible. It was like drowning slowly in her essence, and he was too warm and sleepy to try and struggle for the surface. He wasnt sure he would have anyway.

In the abstract he understood his hand was on her breast, and as her brother, that was somewhere it ought not to be. But she wasnt complaining, and he rather liked the feel of it. The incredible softness of her skin, the gentle weight, the steady beat of her heart. It was all so very precious to him.

_She_ was precious to him.

_I want to be always near her._

His arm tightened instinctively around her, bringing her closer and cradling her in the curve of his body. Sleepily he pressed his face into her tangled hair, nuzzling against the back of her neck until he found warm skin. His lips curved hazily, and he pressed his lips to her nape. Then his tongue, tasting the sweet scent of Aya. It was so much stronger here. So much headier.

He fell asleep the way one was supposed to. Warmly, slowly, feeling as if he had all the time in the world just to enjoy this moment...

The taste of Aya.

* * *

**Essence**

_n_ **1 a :** the permanent as contrasted with the accidental element of being **b :** the individual, real, or ultimate nature of a thing _esp_. as opposed to its existence **c :** the property necessary to the nature of a thing **d :** the most significant property of a thing **2 :** something that exists : entity **3 a** **:** (1) a volatile substance or constituent derivative possessing the special qualities in concentrated form **b :** odor, perfume : The constituent elementary notions which constitute a complex notion, and must be enumerated to define it : The constituent quality or qualities which belong to any object, or class of objects, or on which they depend for being what they are (distinguished as real essence); the real being, divested of all logical accidents; that quality which constitutes or marks the true nature of anything; distinctive character; hence, virtue or quality of a thing, separated from its grosser parts. : A being; esp., a purely spiritual being. : the choicest or most essential or most vital part of some idea or experience.

Synonyms: Spirit. Core. Heart. Real meaning. Soul. Quintessence. Fundamental nature. Concentrate. Extract. Centre. Gist. Kernel. Substance. Inwardness. Sum. Effect. Burden. Perfume. Affective meaning. Body. Breath. Climax. Element. Form. Fragrance. Meaning. Undertone. Vital.


	11. Hold

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Hold**

She crawled to the edge of the bed, looking blearily back as her brother shifted position, curling on his side and hugging his arms close to his body. She smiled through a yawn, thinking that he always looked sweet...when his eyes were closed. He glared at her too much for her to give him that distinction when he was awake.

Okay, she was lying there.

She shrugged slightly, then shifted the motion smoothly into a full body stretch, linking her fingers behind her back and arching slightly. Previous experience taught her that it was damn near impossible to sleep in a bed not her own. These past few weeks had taught her it was nearly impossible to sleep period.

She must have been exhausted, because she didn't even recall going to sleep. And she hadn't even woke up once, how unusual for her. The ward definitely worked, and she took a long moment to revel in the silence. Feeling a shard of pity, but at the same time, not missing the Tennyo's presence at all.

_I'm sorry, Ceres_, she thought, _but this is my life. I won't be an instrument for your wrath, and definitely not against my family_.

Turning from the bed, she quickly stumbled her way into the bathroom. Grace in the morning was not one of her strong suits, that was more Aki's thing, how strange then that he was still asleep.

_I'm glad. He probably needs it more than I do_.

She smiled gently at her reflection in the mirror, thinking that she looked like something that had been dragged backwards through a rose bush. She began picking at her hair, combing her fingers through the tangles. A few seconds later she decided it was completely hopeless, and that only a hefty dose of conditioner would tame her lions mane.

Feeling suddenly giddy (and not naming the fact that it was because she saw herself in the mirror, _and only herself_), she went to the bag that Aki had packed, knowing that he, being the practical twin, would have packed the necessary supplies for this _vacation_.

It was your standard black bag, with your standard clasp in the standard place. With a little hum and clumsy fingers, she undid it, pushing the flap back. As expected, everything was neat and tidy, and in its perfect place. With pure mischief she began digging recklessly through his things, moving them around and disrupting the order in the way only a devoted sister could.

No toiletries in the main pocket, they must be in one of the smaller ones. Her fingers flew to the closest one, unzipping it with a hiss. Digging in, her hand clasped around something incongruous to anything she had expected. It was cool and flat, smooth like glass, with raised edges. It felt a lot like...

She pulled said item free...

...a picture frame.

She frowned curiously as she turned it over and came face to face with---

Herself? A photo of her and Aki. She remembered when this was taken. It was only weeks ago, though it felt like another life entirely. She touched the glass gently, her mind at a complete standstill at how happy she looked. How happy they _both_ looked.

It was right after that disastrous fortune was told, and she had dragged everybody with her to the Karaoke box to unwind. Aki rarely ever sang, but he loved music, and usually enjoyed himself just as much as she did. Though he would never admit it to her.

There was this popular song, and she liked it, but everyone else thought that it was being played into the ground. It never failed to pick up her spirits though, so she didnt pay any attention to their moans and groans when the first _recognizable_ notes broke the semi-quiet air.

She smiled fondly as she recalled exactly how much she had thrown herself into the song, but it had felt good. To sing, to move, to just spill all her tension out.

_"Aya_," Aki had said, "_You shouldn't dance! It's definitely not your thing!"_

She snorted slightly in self-directed amusement, admitting to herself that he was mostly right. She just didn't _care_. Not what others thought of her, not how she looked. What did it matter if she never moved in the proper rhythm? She was having fun!

Apparently, the others had cared, because they attacked as one, pouncing on her and holding her still while Aki pried the microphone out of her hand.

She hadn't realized it at the time, but Kaede had brought along her digital camera. Obviously, she thought Aya was very photogenic. Or very likely to cause a spectacle. Aya smirked at that, not caring which it was, only that she had.

She blinked when she realized the photo was missing a few people. Mainly...everybody but them.

Well, no, she tilted her head, there was a part of Ami's head. But the rest of them had been carefully trimmed away, leaving only her and Aki, struggling over possession of the microphone, but clearly having the time of their lives as well.

_All our pictures_, she thought forlornly, _of each other. Our friends. Mom...Dad..._she slowly laid the picture over her stomach, sliding her arms just as slowly around it, and holding herself, tighter and tighter. The metal protested slightly, the glass shifting in the frame. _All our pictures are gone._

It was as if that life had only been a dream and now she was awake, and the real world was a dark, cold place, full of tragic twists. It was a world completely out of her hands, dragging her along like a marionette on a string.

She glanced up into the mirror and froze, her eyes widening slightly.

She looked so...so...

Broken.

_No! Aya Mikage, that's not who you are at all!_

She shook her head fiercely, swiping at her eyes with jerky movements. _You're only as broken as you think you are._

Which is not at all, she told herself firmly.

_You are you, Aya. And no one can take that away from you if you don't let them. Not the Mikages. Not some Tennyo. No one._

She watched the face in the mirror light up with defiance and determination, then turned her eyes back down to the photo. _Someday Ill be that happy again. And so will Aki. _She traced her finger over Aki's face. _Someday we both will._

Smiling at the picture as if an old friend, she turned it back over and slid it back into the bag exactly as it had been.

_Someday_...

( ) *

Aki listened to the water turn on in the bathroom, having woke up when Aya did. He was shocked to realize that he had allowed himself to fall asleep in such a..._suggestive_ tangle.

More surprising was the fact that she didn't react. Didn't even seem to realize. She had gently pushed off his arm, instantly waking him, and stumbled from the bed. He had watched her with slitted eyes, waiting for the realization to catch up with her, but it never happened. She gazed back at him for several seconds, clearly still half-asleep, then she seemed to decide something and shrugged, segueing right into a stretch that had his eyes widening before he could stop them.

_His sister, she was_...

He took a deep breath, and then slowly brought up his left hand. He could still feel the warmth and softness of her skin, and he slowly closed his fingers over his palm, as if trying to hold onto those sensations for as long as possible. Strong emotion made everything easier---he didn't have to think if the feelings were strong enough.

_I've never felt anything this strong before_.

The water continued to run. He knew from experience that Aya's showers were actually more like events. He turned over slowly onto his back and stared blankly up at the ceiling. He lifted up the pillow in his hand and pulled it over his face.

_It smelled like her_.

He was startled as a low groan fleeted through the room. He was even more startled to realize that it had come from him. He flung the pillow away, and rolled suddenly, coming to a stop on his side, far away from her side of the bed as possible. He stared at the plain standard motel desk and felt helpless tears sting his eyes.

Aya...

_I don't know whats wrong with me, Aya_.

**Hold**

_vt_ **1 a :** to maintain possession of : possess **b :** to retain by force **c :** to keep control of or authority over **d :** to keep as a threat or means of coercion **2 :** to impose restraint upon **a :** to restrain from producing **b (1) :** to keep back **(2) **stay, arrest **(3)** delay **(4)** to stop the action of temporarily **c :** to keep from advancing or succeeding in attack **d :** to restrict or limit by acting to control or oppose **e :** to bind legally or morally : constrain **f :** to tense muscles in order to brace oneself **3 a :** to have or keep in the grasp **b :** to cause to be or remain in a particular situation, position, or relation **c :** support, sustain **d :** to keep in custody **e :** to have in ones keeping : store, reserve **4 :** bear, carry, comport **5 a :** to maintain in being or action : keep up without interruption, diminution, or flagging **b :** to keep the uninterrupted interest, attention, or devotion of **6 a** : to receive and retain : contain, accommodate **b :** to have in reserve **7 a** : harbor, entertain **b :** consider, regard, judge **c :** esteem, value **8 a** : to engage in with someone or with others : do by concerted action **b :** convoke, convene **9 :** to have earned or been appointed **10 :** to handle so as to guide or manage

To cause to remain in a given situation, position, or relation, within certain limits, or the like; to prevent from falling or escaping; to sustain; to restrain; to keep in the grasp; to retain.

The act of holding, as in or with the hands or arms; the manner of holding, whether firm or loose; seizure; grasp; clasp; grip; possession; -- often used with the verbs take and lay.

Power by which something or someone is affected or dominated : to close within bounds, limit or hold back from movement : keep from exhaling or expelling.

_vi_ **1 a :** to maintain position : not retreat **b (1)** **:** to continue in the same way or state : last **(2)** to endure a test or trial **2 :** to maintain a grasp on something : remain fastened to something **3 :** to derive right or title **4 :** to bear or carry oneself **5 :** to be or remain valid : apply **6 :** to go ahead as one has been going **7 :** to forbear an intended or threatened action : halt, pause

_n_ **1 :** stronghold **2 a** : confinement, custody **b :** prison **3 a :** the act or manner of holding or grasping : grip **b :** a non-physical bond that attaches, restrains, or constrains or by which something is affected, controlled, or dominated **c :** full-comprehension **4 :** something that may be grasped as a support

et cetera et cetera et cetera

Synonyms: Grasp. Clutch. Grip. Clasp. Seize. Cling to. Embrace. Cleave to. Possess. Have. Keep. Retain. Restrain. Confine. Bind. Connect. Unite. Enfold. Hold close. Sustain. Wait. Handle. Catch. Capture.

* * *

TBC...


	12. Mirror

^_^ Hi everyone! Yes, this is late---but good news! I haven't been lazy in my absence! Believe it or not, I've actually finished writing this story. *coy look* Or should I say...book? Yes, book. Not sure how long it will be typed, but I have filled several notebooks, and...well, I've lost count, but I know there is more than fifty parts. Um...maybe leaning more towards a hundred parts? More? *shakes head* I'm not sure of the exact number yet. And to think, I originally planned this to be a one-shot, and continued it on a whim with no more than the thought of 'what if...'

Anywho! The story is written! But now comes the tricky and not so fun part of typing/editing. And finding the time to do so. But as long as I have reviewers, I swear I will continue to post this epic. So review! ^_^

As a side note, I finished my other two Aya/Aki WIPs as well. _Somnambulist_...not sure if it will be well-received. It's a little racy. ;-D _Truth and Dare_ is actually a side story for _Steps_, events in that short tale have actually already cropped up (Aya's dream in part 9), and they will be referred to again in a few of the later chapters. Hint hint. ^_^ I'm working on a few one-shots right now, but my main goal is getting this monster typed to completion. :-/ It truly is a labour of love.

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! ^_^ I hope you enjoy reading this story as much I loved writing it!

Now on to the new chapter!!!

* * *

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Mirror**

_Absolutely not_!

"What?" When arguing with Aya, it was best to remember this one simple rule---never disagree with her outright. And never, _never_ phrase anything like an order.

His sister did not like being told what to do, and she had a streak of contrariness so wide that it could quite easily cross over into spitefulness given the right amount of provocation.

Apparently, 'no', was a very provocative word for her.

"I said! I need to go to the store for some things. I promise Ill be quick," and here she glared at her brother, daring him to disagree with her.

So he disagreed. Subtly.

"Aya, come on now. It's best that we keep moving, and stay out of public places. The Mikages aren't exactly unknown, you know."

Rule number two. Speak gently, using only the most undeniable facts. Make sure you can back up your claims, as she _will_ demand proof.

"Aki. I'm not an idiot. I know all that. But it is _very important_ that I go. Trust me on that."

"Why?" _Ah, damn, never ask her to explain herself._

"Why," she breathed, her nostrils flaring. He flinched, edging around the bed cautiously. "I'll tell you why! Because I'm a girl, baka!"

Aki blinked, clearly not getting it. This seemed to infuriate Aya even more. While at the same time, a splash of pink brightened her cheeks and nose.

What caused that, he wondered, with less than innocent curiosity. He wanted to reach out and smooth his fingers over her cheekbones, just to see if he could feel actual heat from such a warm shade of rose.

"You're a girl," he said slowly, still staring dazedly as the pink seemed to spread charmingly to her ears. "Okay..."

"Trust me," she muttered, her bangs falling over her eyes, "I _need_ to go."

Now she looked less angry, and more...bashful.

_Cute!!_

"Aya," he sighed, "If you forgot anything, I can go get it for you," he offered gently, feeling like he might do _anything_ for this girl, no matter the risk to himself.

"Aki! No!" she sputtered, looking mortified.

Now _this_ was interesting.

"Aya, what is it?"

She stared at him with wide eyes one long moment, then spun around, busying her suddenly anxious hands with making the bed.

"Aya."

Her shoulders twitched, and she glanced through her hair, but didnt look at him directly. "It's nothing, Aki. Just forget it."

That didn't sound like Aya at all. She was too timid. "It's clearly _not_ nothing. Tell me, Aya."

Ah, he broke the first rule, but they weren't exactly arguing anymore...

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. He knew he was in trouble now. "No."

He went still. "Aya."

"No. Don't 'Aya' me," she mocked his stern expression, quite well actually. "I don't wanna talk about it," she added.

Well, now he couldn't let it go. "Aya! Tell me!"

"No."

_What the hell_?

She cast him a coy look. "I'll never tell."

_Oh, that's it_. "Aya," he said sweetly.

She tilted her head, giving him a look of pure innocence. "Yes, Aki?"

"You better tell me."

"Hmm, I 'better' tell you?"

He knew she was just playing this game to try and distract him from his questions. And it was working to some degree. All he could seem to think about was that beguiling curve to her lips.

Completely focused, he edged around the bed.

She mirrored him, taking tiny steps to maintain the distance between them. He came to a stop at the corner, and she paused at the head, right next to the tidy, evenly placed pillows.

He gave her a warm, evil smirk, the kind of smile only a brother could produce, and only when he sees a perfect way to torment his sister. There were only two paths left for her to take. Him. Or along the wall. Either way, he had her.

Unexpectedly, she chose the bed, suddenly leaping up on it and scrambling ungracefully for the other side.

He lunged, catching hold of her waist and pulling them both down to roll across the bed. They ended with him on top, sitting on her thighs, while her head dangled off the edge.

"Aki! Get off me!" she struggled earnestly, tangling the once pristine sheets and kicking one of the pillows to the floor. It didn't help.

He smirked down at her, his bangs falling across his lavender eyes and giving them an almost sinister look. "Not until you tell me."

"Aki," she shrieked, kicking her feet against the bed, "You better let me go. _This_ instant!"

"Oh, I 'better'?" he mocked, struggling to keep control of her flailing hands. It wasn't easy, Aya was a lot stronger than she looked. But then again, so was he.

She whined, actually whined, going completely limp under him. She lifted her head up slowly, her hair half-caught under her, and half-spilled over the edge.

"Aniki," she enunciated clearly in her sweetest voice.

His hands loosened on her wrists, but only just. She didn't struggle. "Aya?" he returned calmly.

"Will you please, please, PLEASE let me go?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No," she said grudgingly, losing all sweetness.

"Well, then, no. I think I'll stay right here. It's rather cozy, you see." A bright, bright smile. He watched her eyebrow twitch.

"Aki!"

The way she said his name...it was making him _dizzy_.

"Hmm," he murmured. It was a siblings job to patronize. So far the scorecard had been vastly uneven. But when he wanted to rile Aya...Well, nobody could do it quite as good as he could. Nobody knew her as well as he did.

She whimpered, and that splash of rose was back as her usually aggressive eyes played a sudden game of 'catch me if you can'. She looked adorable, all flushed and uncertain, but her continuing silence was beginning to worry him.

What was it? What couldn't she tell him?

_No_, he thought firmly, _I refuse to allow her to keep secrets from me. There's nothing she could possibly say, no secret dark enough, that we cant handle together. And if she can't see that, then I will make her see it._

"Aya, come on," he soothed, letting go of her wrists and sitting back. "I'm your brother; you can trust me with anything. You know that, right?"

"Yes, but---"

"No buts. Remember what I told you on the night before our birthday, when I caught you downstairs opening the presents?"

She looked up sheepishly, clearly having no trouble remembering the event he was speaking of. "Aki, I was seven."

"And so was I, but that's not the point. You begged me not to tell, so I didn't tell. Ever."

"You helped me clean up the mess, and tape up the wrapping paper, and put all the presents back in their proper order." Her smile practically glowed as the memory filled her eyes. "And then we opened yours."

"And mom and dad found out."

"And they asked us," she smiled fondly at some distant image of the past.

"But neither of us knew what they were talking about, as we both had been upstairs in bed the _entire time_."

Her eyes shined up at him. "They knew, you know."

"Of course they did," he said haughtily, "they always knew. But the important thing is that I never told on you, and you never told on me. No matter who asked or how often. Do you remember what I said?"

She nodded once, swallowing hard. "You said you're my mirror."

He smiled gently. "I said, I am your mirror, and you are mine, so when you tell me a secret, I tell you a secret, and that secret becomes 'our' secret."

"I remember," she whispered.

"Good, because it's still true today. And it will still be true tomorrow. There is nothing you cant tell me, Aya. Nothing that will ever make me turn my back on you."

She bit her lip, the shine in her eyes suddenly manifesting as tears. "Aki..."

His eyes widened, and he lunged forward slightly. "Hey, hey, don't do that! It's going to be okay, Aya, I promise." He crawled off her, laying against her side and combing his fingers through her tangled hair.

The tears didn't stop. She turned to him in one motion, burying her face in his chest and clutching his shirt between her fingers and against her mouth.

He slid his arms around her and held her close, whispering soothing words against her temple.

Aya. He closed his eyes down tight and cried too. For the pain, the uncertainty. For what they had lost, and what they had left.

For what could be tomorrow.

_And what could never be again_.

**Mirror**

n 1 : a looking-glass or a speculum ; any glass or polished substance that forms images by the reflection of rays of light 2 a : something that gives a true representation, or in which a true image may be seen b : an exemplary model : to copy or duplicate; to mimic or imitate : to have a close resemblance to

vt ; to reflect in or as if in a mirror

Synonyms: Reflect. Echo. Copy. Emulate. Parallel. Represent. Epitomize. Illustrate. Symbolize. Embody. Incarnate.

* * *

TBC...


	13. Home

Hajnalmadar and Midnight Dilemma, you are both so wonderful! Thank you for continuing to read! I'm glad you liked the last part! ^_^

The fandom may be very small, but I feel like I've really connected to the characters of Aya and Aki in this story. So while I worked hard on the writing, it also flowed very easily for me, most of the time. The kind of stuff that the twins went through, with the separation and the way their family turned on them, and the whole situation slipping out of their hands...I was never satisfied with how it was dealt with. I felt like too much was glossed over and/or ignored, for the sake of Aya's 'relationship' with Touya. Like...the death of her father was never really addressed with any sincerity or finesse. And that got on my nerves. *shakes head* So much potential for good writing/drama, never explored.

Anywho, I will get into all that later. ^_^

I will continue to try to be timelier with the updates. I can't promise I'll always be on time, as life continues to happen ^_^', but I will do my best. Reviews are great motivators, incidentally. :-D

Thanks again!!!

* * *

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

**Home**

As clichéd as it was, Aya felt lighter as she made her way back from the little store on the corner. The dread that had been shackling her feet for so long seemed to be gone. She still didn't walk like the fifteen year old Aya, but she wasn't walking like a prophet on the way to her own doom anymore, either. And that had to count for something.

The small grocery bag swung loosely from her wrist, and she lifted her head up, smiling at the early morning sky. _This is right_, she thought. _I made the right choice_.

A concrete fragment crunched under her shoe, and she glanced down, suddenly grinning happily. She skipped over the next crack in the pavement, and then the next, ignoring the passing traffic and doing whatever she felt like.

It felt good to be alone in her own head again.

Her eyes stung a little from her earlier tears, but the confident swing of her hair and high-spirited stalk, you wouldn't have guessed that she had been weeping so brokenly not an hour ago. Others might have been embarrassed about breaking down in front of another, and she would have, too. But this was Aki. She never felt embarrassed about being herself around him. Even if being herself was being a blubbering crybaby.

It helped that he had cried, too. Usually such an event would have startled her, would have hurt her---would have made her want to do almost anything to make him stop. But these tears had been different.

They had been full of sadness, yes, but also a strange sort of relief. _I needed to cry_, she realized. _I needed to mourn. And I think Aki did, too_.

The playing had felt wonderful, too.

She donned a suddenly sly look, looking down and left. The means were different, but the end was just as she had wanted. Her brother still had absolutely no idea why she had wanted to go to the store. The plastic of the shopping bad rustled as she walked, and she wrapped her fingers around it, swinging it out slightly as she hopped over another crack.

Maybe she should try to be a little more covert, but she believed it was more effective to hide in plain sight. Sneaking people always seemed to gain so much attention. Besides, Aki said it was unlikely that anyone would notice he was gone until they came in to wake him for breakfast. Which would be...

She turned her wrist over to glance at her watch.

Roughly ten minutes ago.

_They're probably in a good panic right about now, searching the building, not even thinking he might be long gone from the city_.

On the flipside, Yuuhi was also probably panicking now, pushing Kiyuu-san to get the car so he could go search blindly for her in the streets. She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with the little note she left. Three sentences and x amount of words. Not any details, but hopefully just enough to bring him comfort when he finally calmed down and did more than just register that she was gone.

She sighed, her steps slowing as her heavy thoughts began to weigh down her mood.

He wouldn't be happy, he might even be angry at her, but eventually she hoped he would see that this was the best way. The _only_ way.

She just wanted to _live_. That's all she had ever really wanted. To live, and to love. And because of something she and her ancestors had done more than a thousand years ago---she was just supposed to surrender all her hopes and dreams?

Ceres wanted to go home. She could understand that, she really could. But because of Ceres, Aya _now_ had no home.

_I just want to go home_, Aya thought at her other self. Not at all upset when she received no answer.

Her head lifted in that stubborn set again, and she forcefully brought her mood around, pushing all other dark thoughts right out of her head.

_I still have Aki. And as long as we're together, home will always be close to my heart_.

She leaped up to the landing for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

_Aki, we will carry home with us...wherever it is we go from here_.

**Home**

One's own dwelling place; the house in which one lives; esp., the house in which one lives with his family; the habitual abode of one's family; also, one's birthplace. One's native land; the place or country in which one dwells; the place where one's ancestors dwell or dwelt : The abiding place of the affections, especially of the domestic affections. A place of refuge and rest; an asylum : Close, closely : To the place where it belongs; to the end of a course; to the full length : place where something began and flourished : on or to the point aimed at : to the fullest extent, to the heart

Synonyms: House. Residence. Dwelling. Habitat. Quarters. Family. Place of origin.

* * *

TBC...


	14. Catch

sorry i took another little break from posting, very busy with pretending to be an adult lately. ^_^ it's easier for me to keep up with things if i have a deadline, so how about this: if i get at least two or three reviews, i will have the next chapter posted within a week period? this will give me a goal to strive for, and hopefully keep me from procrastinating so much. i'm really excited about several future turns in the story, and can't wait to share them and get everyones opinion. though...eventually i'm thinking i may have to up the rating. O:-D no...particular...reason.

MidnightDilemma, Hajnalmadar, and Babyblues132...Thank you so much for your reviews! i hope you like this chapter as well! ^_^

* * *

Steps

Aya + Aki

By: L O K I

* * *

**Catch**

A trap lay in wait.

Aya wasn't even _trying_ to be inconspicuous; she could be heard clomping up the stairs, humming some popular song under her breath. She jiggled the knob of the motel door, pushing in and ignoring the fact that her brother had locked it after she had left.

As far as escape and evade tactics go, she, in a word, 'sucked'. She was already in the room and half-way across the floor to the bathroom when he struck. Lunging out from behind the door, he swiped at the plastic bag, jerking it out of her hand.

"Aki!" she shrieked, snatching for it, but he backed out of her reach, smirking triumphantly.

"Give that back," she shouted, rubbing at her wrist though there wasn't a mark to be seen. A pretty scowl shadowed her usually bright face.

Pant-leg brushing the edge of the bed, Aki stopped backing away, clutching the precious bag in both his hands. He held it close to his body, like a dragon hoarding some precious treasure. "Toldya I would find out."

She actually stomped her foot, slapping her hands down on her hips in the classic mom-pose. "Not yet you haven't," she forced through her teeth, promising him a violent death with her eyes if he didn't do as she said.

"Watch me," he taunted, taking one hand away from the bag to open it.

She leaped, but he was ready for her, and neatly stepped aside at the last moment. She landed on the bed, but didn't stop. With the momentum of her jump, she rolled off the bed and landed on the other side, upsetting the nightstand slightly. Smoothing down her skirt, she gave a bored face, as if that move had been one she had meant to make. The shaking of her hands said otherwise.

Or maybe that was just her frustration.

He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look of admiration at the way she had recovered. Of course, the amused tilt to his lips told her that he knew more was owed to chance, than any real grace on her part.

"This is familiar," he commented sweetly, tipping his free-hand at the bed that was now between them.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mature," he appraised, giving her an arrogant look.

She sputtered. "Look who's talking! You ambushed me at the freakin' door! Now give me my bag back!"

"Don't think so," he said brightly, tilting the bag one way and then the other, making the contents rattle.

"Don't do that," she cried, holding one hand out in protest.

His eyebrow shot up, his hand stopping in mid-motion. "Fragile, is it?"

She stared at him for a long moment, then pulled down her bored look again, dropping her hand to her side. "No..."

"Really."

"Aki." Ah, she was really getting irritated now. She only brought out that particular tone when she was about to go nuclear. Unfortunately, brothers had a natural immunity.

"You should have told me earlier," he sighed dramatically. "It's your own fault that I had to resort to these types of measures."

"Aki! That's completely unfair! You're so mean! I don't have to tell you everything, you know."

"Yes, you do," he nodded sagely.

She paused at that, blinking at him with absolute exasperation. There were no words for her aggravation, only incoherent sounds.

"After all," he continued serenely, "You need someone to _try_ and keep you out of trouble. Please note that I stressed the word 'try'."

His sister was a particularly pretty girl, but at that moment, she looked more like a...bull. Biting his lip to keep from laughing out-right, he held the bag out a little and pantomimed a red cape.

He was curious about all her secrecy, yes, but it was more about keeping her distracted from all the bad situations that had to be spinning in her head.

_It was a great distraction for him, too_.

"For the last time. Give. It. Back."

"Nope," he said unrepentantly.

There's the breaking point. She charged, fingers splayed out like claws and a snarl curling her top lip. _My sister, so aggressive_, he thought fondly as he darted around to the other side of the bed.

She followed blindly.

He was a little surprised. _Whatever is in this bag must be important or something_.

The space was really too small to run, so he gave up trying to evade her grabbing hands. As soon as he reached a moderate amount of open-space, he turned and held his ground.

She didn't stop. Grabbing hold of one arm to try and keep him in place (though he wasn't trying to get away anymore) she reached around him and snatched at the bag.

The bag he was holding out, straight-armed from his body. Clearly pushed beyond logical thought, she continued to grab at it, forcing him back slightly as she did.

_That's enough_, he thought as she stomped on his foot. Without warning he jerked his arm free of her hold, slid it around her neck, and caught her in a gentle, yet inescapable headlock.

She squeaked, forgetting all about her precious bag in favour of trying to struggle free. She elbowed him in the ribs.

"That's enough," this time he said it out-loud, though he wheezed slightly when he did. Suddenly hooking his foot around her ankle, he lowered her to the floor. She grabbed hold of him, pulling him down with her. With a grunt they fell in a tangle of limbs, and plastic, and gold hair.

"Give," she demanded, her hand crawling up his arm as he tried to hold the coveted prize away from her.

With a smirk he shoved her over, and rolled with her, coming out the victor, but only momentarily, as her eyes snapped out that the battle was not yet won. "This is familiar, too," he said, settling his weight on her thighs. His bangs fell into his eyes as he grinned down at her.

Her hands instantly slapped down on his chest, shoving at him.

"Ah-ah," he taunted, catching hold of one of her hands. But this time she wasn't to be deterred, and she wiggled and twisted, trying to still reach for his other hand. Somehow he managed to hold onto the bag.

"Aki," she whined, kicking her feet as she realized she was trapped again. "Come on now, wasn't once enough for today?" She spoke calmly, but he could tell by the slant of her mouth that she was just biding her time.

"Guess not, since you were so bound and determined to do this again."

"Me?! I just want my bag back!"

"And I just want to know what's so important about it."

She stared up at him, determined now not to tell him, since he was practically demanding it of her.

"Not gonna say? Well, I have ways of making you talk..."

"And what are you going to do? You don't even have any free hands," she emphasized this by jiggling her left wrist in his right hand, but didn't bother to do anything with her other. "Stalemate. You have to let me go."

He didn't like those words, not at all. His hand tightened slightly around her wrist, without him even noticing.

She noticed. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if it hurt...

His eyes lit up, warming the lavender until it almost seemed to hold hints of gold. Her eyes widened slightly, not knowing what he was planning, but knowing that there _was_ a plan.

He drew back his free arm in one motion, and threw the bag across the room. He no longer had possession of it, but neither could she reach it while he still held her.

"AKI! I can't believe you just did that!" she cried.

"Believe it. And now you're going to tell me what I want to know."

But she set her mouth stubbornly, her look only lacking crossed arms. Her eyes said, 'I dare you'.

There was only one important rule to remember while arguing with _Aki_. He never bluffed. With the quick litheness of practice, he caught her right hand and pushed it out of the way, then quickly placed his hand on her side and---_wiggled_ it.

A startled breath, as if he had knocked the air from her lungs, and then she squealed, trying to curl her body up and struggle away from him, all at the same time.

"Aki, no! Stop!"

He did.

She went limp beneathe him in relief, panting.

"So, what is it," he asked conversationally, sitting back, but not letting go of her hand.

She took a few more deep breaths, staring up at him mutinously. Then she took another breath. And another.

He tilted his chin. "Aya. Don't stall," he chided, knowing his sister all too well.

Another deep breath, and she crossed her free arm of her stomach. Then that stubborn set slowly came back to her mouth.

"Aya," he warned, knowing it wouldn't stop her.

Her hand shot out, jabbing against his ribs. He yelped, jerking away slightly as she tickled him. But this hadn't been completely unexpected.

"Turnabout," she crowed in triumph.

He twisted one way, and then another, but couldn't seem to escape her hand. Finally he stopped struggling and lunged forward, grabbing both of her hands and holding them down on the floor.

She stared up at him with a crooked smile.

"Stalemate," she enunciated clearly, jiggling both her hands to point out that he now had no more use of his.

And with that, the scene somehow shifted for him. Gone was the innocent play of only moments before...and he realized suddenly that it hadn't been quite innocent from the start. He was doing it again. Acting just like himself, acting 'normal', but there was this undercurrent of emotion---trying to pull at her, trying to sweep him along.

And with subtle whispers it had been guiding his hand. Injecting just enough suggestiveness into the situation in hopes that she would begin to wonder. And in wondering, she would perhaps think about it. And in thinking, would then grow curious. Curiosity could be the door that opened her mind to him. To _them_...

He wanted...

Aya lay beneathe him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her face was flushed from exertion, a nice, healthy glow that seemed to brighten the blue of her eyes. Her hair was spread around her in lovely gold tangles, crackling with static electricity as it stuck to her cheeks and clung to his fingers. It did that sometimes, sparking with light as she moved, or brushed her hair, or danced in the dim darkness of any number of their friends' living rooms...

Her wrists were slender, but strong in the cage of his fingers, not struggling but resting limply in complete trust.

And she stared up at him with eyes so like his, it was like looking into a mirror.

"Did you hear me, Aki? I win," she grinned victoriously, finally catching her breath.

"Is that so," he mumbled, still staring down into her eyes, still feeling as if his very blood carried the beat of his heart, and it was slowly spreading out throughout his body.

He wanted...

He wanted to be closer. He wanted to breathe her in. He wanted to _taste_ her.

He leaned forward, parting his lips.

He wanted her to want---

Before he could finish that thought, he lunged forward, pecked a quick kiss to the end of her nose, then leaped up, scrabbling to the other side of the room while she was still shocked. While _he_ was still shocked.

He scooped up the fallen bag, spun back to the bed, and dumped out its contents.

Then stared.

It took him several seconds to think beyond his fear. But when he did...he stared some more. Aya's voice came echoing back through his head, filled with frustration and tinged slightly with embarrassment. '_Why?!__ I'll tell you why! Because I'm a girl, baka!'_

She had meant that quite literally.

But also...he reached out, carefully bypassing the box of tampons, and lifted up the disposable camera. Aya now stood on the other side of the bed, watching him.

"Because all our pictures are…"

"Gone," he finished her sentence absently, turning the packaging over and over.

"Yes," she nodded once.

He felt both sad and happy, and terrified out of his mind.

"Aya..." He wanted to say something. Something deep and profound, something that would comfort her. But when he opened his mouth all that would come out was her name.

"It might not be a good idea, not with the kind of life we're going to be living for awhile..." She began hesitantly, playing with her fingers, "But I wanted...I wanted..." She frowned in puzzlement, as if she didn't know what words to use. Or how to explain her thinking.

"...To remember," he said slowly as her head shot up, her eyes wide on him. "And make new memories. Because..." Now _he_ looked hesitant in the choosing of his words.

She smiled, a gentler version of her usual light. "Because the future is uncertain, but we still have this moment. And I want to capture this moment for eternity."

Yes, he thought, but didn't say out-loud. It was moments like these, as he stared warmly across at Aya, that he couldn't _bear_ to think of his feeling for his sister as 'wrong'.

He loved her. How could that ever be wrong?

* * *

**Catch** v. t. [OE. cacchen, OF. cachier, dialectic form of chacier to hunt, F. chasser, fr. (assumend) LL. captiare, for L. capture, V. intens. of capere to take, catch.] To attain possession. To be held or impeded by entanglement or a light obstruction. To take hold. To spread by, or as by, infecting; to communicate. a person regarded as a good matrimonial prospect. a break or check in the voice (usually a sign of strong emotion). to attract and fix. capture as if by hunting, snaring, or trapping. be struck or affected by. check oneself during an action. grasp with the mind or develop an undersatnding of. 1. To lay hold on; to seize, especially with the hand; to grasp (anything) in motion, with the effect of holding; 2. To seize after pursuing; to arrest; as, to catch a thief. 3. To take captive, as in a snare or net, or on a hook; as, to catch a bird or fish. 4. Hence: To insnare; to entangle. 5. To seize with the senses or the mind; to apprehend; as, to catch a melody. 6. To communicate to; to fasten upon; as, the fire caught the adjoining building. 7. To engage and attach; to please; to charm. 8. To get possession of; to attain. 9. To take or receive; esp. to take by sympathy, contagion, infection, or exposure; as, to catch the spirit of an occasion; to catch the measles or smallpox; to catch cold; the house caught fire. 10. To come upon unexpectedly or by surprise; to find; as, to catch one in the act of stealing. 11. To reach in time; to come up with.

* * *

TBC...


	15. Mark

Steps

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

Mark

Subtle differences were better than out-right disguises. Aki knew this intimately. Loose jeans in place of a skirt, for instance, could be used to hide her figure. Braiding her hair while it was still wet and tying it back from her face tightly could give it a darker tone, and also make her look older. Just a touch of make-up helped.

Darker colours, a different style, all meant to cast off eyes, and allow her to blend into the crowd.

The same could be said for Aki. They spent an hour in the bathroom together, deciding what to do and how to do it. Shoes with a slight heel, jeans of a different length and cut. Hair gel to comb his hair back, that also darkened the gold nearly to bronze. She didn't like the gel, but it was only for now, only until they got to the other side of the country. And only in public. Aki understood that pretence, too.

She even added a touch of make-up, filling his lips out a little, darkening his eyelashes and eyebrows---neither of them planned on getting close enough to anybody for it to become readily apparent.

There was only one last thing for them to do, before they could leave...

Make the seal permanent. The ink was beginning to fade, as ink tended to do. On the surface anyway. And as they always said: a tattoo is for life.

Finding someone who would do it was easy. Finding someone who would mark Aya without a guardian was just as easy, as soon as a certain number was offered. It put a considerable dent in their limited amount of funds, but it was money well-spent if they never had to deal with Ceres again.

But, as the moment of truth approached, Aya grew shakier and shakier. And Aki noticed, pulling her to one side of the small sitting room as soon as he could catch her in her nervous flight.

She stared at the floor, looking so much more solemn and mature than he was used to seeing. The severe plait bound her hair up, leaving her face bare to the world. The black pants and dark blue top added to the affect. With her head bowed, she didn't quite look like his sister at all.

He crooked his finger under her chin and brought her head up, trying to see her as a stranger might for a moment.

This was an image of a woman, someone maybe going to a university, studying business. Or a lady in an office building, leaning against a window thirty floors up.

He sighed. This was his sister, looking far older than her age, and bravely trying to present a calm face.

He dropped his hand and shoved it in his jeans pocket, but he didn't drop his eyes. "We don't have to do this," he said gently. "We can choose another place, and redraw the seal whenever it starts to fade..."

She shook her head slowly. "That's a chance. And it's one I can't take. Not with you, Aki. All that has to happen is for one little line to get smudged, and then _she's_ free again."

She sighed miserably, turning away from him to wrap her arms around herself. "If I thought for one second that she and I could get along, could exist together in peace, then no, I wouldn't be doing this. But I can feel it, Aki; she's not going to stop. I don't know why she hates you so much. I mean, I know the facts, but I just don't _understand_ why this is happening.

"And you know what, I don't really care about her reasoning. You are you, and I am me. And I don't care who we might have been before. We are who we are now. And...and I won't let her kill you." Her voice broke on that last, as if her throat was trying to close just at the thought of saying such words. Her shoulders rose slightly as her arms tightened around her middle. They started to shake.

Aki's chest clenched painfully. He took her arm, turning her back around to face him. At the sight of her spiked eyelashes he slid his arm around her, pulling her into him. With one hand he threaded his fingers through her hair, drawing her head down to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her temple, feeling his own eyes blur and sting, as he could never stand to watch Aya cry.

In the dim light of the room, their shadows merged into one shape on the floor. It was hard to tell where one began, and the other ended.

( ) *

Aya wasn't scared of much, and thankfully that short list didn't contain needles. At the same time, she was very anxious, and refused to even go in without her brother at her side.

Fortunately, Aki absolutely refused to leave her side, assisting her up onto the table, and glaring at the 'artist' as he eased her shirt up. He had to clean off Aki's hand-drawn symbol, to redraw it in preparation of the tattoo gun.

In that small space, between the cleansing off of the old ink, and the application of the new, Ceres was finally allowed to speak.

'_Don't do this, Aya! Please!_'

Aya started once, at the depths of the Celestial Maiden's panic, but she settled down as Aki whispered soothing words to her, petting his fingers gently across her hand.

_Ceres_, she returned, not having thought of what she would say to her if this moment ever occurred.

'_Aya, don't! Don't let him do this to us! He's just trying to shackle you again!_'

Aya closed her eyes, frowning. _I don't know what you're talking about. You are the one who has been shackling me. Using me as your puppet and trying to hurt the ones that I love_.

Her bitterness in that declaration may not have been audio, but her 'other self' heard it loud and clear. '_Aya_,' she began tentatively.

_Ceres_, Aya cut her off forcefully. _Are you willing to leave the Mikages alone, especially my brother?_

'_That **man** is not your brother_,' Ceres exploded furiously, trying through sheer force of will to overthrow Aya's consciousness and take control of her body.

Aya's hands tightened into fists, and with the combined focus of her own will, she reigned the Maiden in, tamping her down with the strength of her own anger.

_No! I'm not your puppet, Ceres! This is my body! You will not harm anyone through me, EVER AGAIN!_

A few seconds of silence on both sides of the mirror, and Aya calmed down again. Tried to appeal to her again.

_Aki---whoever he was in the past, I don't care. He is my brother now. You claim he stole your Hagorama, right? He stole something irreplaceable. Something very precious to you..._

_But aren't you trying to do the same to me?_

Ceres went still inside her.

_Aki is irreplaceable. He is very precious to me_.

Aya felt Ceres' emotional denial of that statement, even as she remained silent to listen. Aya knew better than to believe she was actually getting through to her.

_Ceres, this man you keep going on about, this man you say Aki once was---How are you any different than him, she continued in a mental whisper. How?_

**_'How dare you---!'_**

_Going after your own desires, and to hell with anyone who gets in you way_, Aya threw that barbed accusation at her, like throwing a stone at a glass house. She couldn't understand the Celestial Maiden's blindness when it came to this particular subject. She couldn't understand how someone's anger could be so great that it eclipsed everything else.

Ceres was silent for a very long moment, and Aya could feel her chewing on her rage, trying to swallow it back so she could reason with her 'other self'.

Aya let her re-gather her composure. Her mind was already made, and each word Ceres said only reinforced her decision. The Maiden was too selfish and destructive to be allowed the opportunity to live through _her_.

'_All I want_,' she began coolly and slowly, '_is my Hagorama back. Just return it to me, and I will leave you alone forever. I promise you this, Aya._'

_And you won't harm the Mikages? My brother?_ Aya already knew the answer to her question. She could feel the wrath bubbling up from the bottom of her soul.

'_That **man** stole my Hagorama,_' Ceres hissed. '_He shamed me and trapped me in this world!_'

There was a strange feeling, as if Ceres was taking a deep breath, and consciously trying to distance herself from Aya for a moment. She could probably feel Aya's emotions welling up into a tidal wave of defiance.

'_Aya, I know you think of him as your brother, but it is only a cruel twist of fate that has placed that particular soul within that body. It is only a matter of time before he slips up and falls back into that darkness that sleeps within him_.

'_What will you do then?_

'_What will you do against him, once you have sealed away our powers for good?_'

Aya took several deep breaths herself, but did not waver in her resolve. _If what you say is true, then Aki is the same as me_.

Ceres stumbled at that, clearly not understanding.

'_He is nothing like us, Aya_.'

_Quit saying 'us'! Whoever I might have been in the past, I am me now! And you're wrong! If this man you hate sleeps inside Aki, then how is that any different than you and I_?

_Aki hasn't left me. Even though you are a danger to his life, he still stays by my side. I refuse to leave him, even if what you say is true. Besides..._She trailed off hesitantly, sadly, actually imagining it for a second.

_Besides, I think I would rather die at his hand, then take his life with my own. I...I don't want to live in a world where something like that can happen_...

'_Aya._..'

Aya flinched at the first touch on her lower back, her hand tightening around Aki's as he whispered to her. She didn't really hear the words; she listened to the cadence of his voice, and relaxed.

She felt the first circle slowly closing. She felt Ceres shudder. All her sympathy suddenly swept away in the rush of her panic.

'_Aya!__ You're going to regret this! **Your brother** cannot be trusted! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day soon that **man** will awaken in him, and then where will you be?_'

Aya didn't budge, she did the mental equivalent of turning her back on the Maiden.

She didn't like that, but she paused in her appeal, taking a moment to rethink her strategy.

'_Aya, what if we...make a promise?_'

Aya glanced at her.

'_You stop this now, and look for my Hagorama, and I'll let you remain in control. I won't do anything you don't approve of; I'll leave the Mikages alone. I'll---_'

_You'll 'let' me be in control of my own body?_ Aya cut-in in exasperation. _Besides, you don't mean that, Ceres. You know you cannot lie to me_.

'**_I will_**_. As long as 'Aki' remains the dominant personality, I swear I won't harm him_.'

_As long as I'm awake, you mean_.

'_Aya, just listen to me_,' she pleaded.

_Why?_ She spun back around. _You and I both know it's the truth. As soon as I fall asleep---you won't even hesitate to try and keep me under_.

The second circle closed.

'_Aya, I just want to go home_,' she cried frantically.

Aya gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing at the shadow of the woman she once was. _I had a home once. A father, too. So what makes you special? What makes it okay for you to take over my life and wreck everything? I just want to go home, too, Ceres. But. I. Can't. The home I had is gone. But I'm not going to let you destroy the only sanctuary I have left_.

The details between the lines.

_This is it_, she thought. _Goodbye, Ceres. I hope somehow, someday, you find peace_.

'_AYA---!_'

The final line was drawn.

* * *

TBC...


	16. Resolution

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

Resolution

He didn't feel different.

Shouldn't he feel different?

_Maybe it's more subtle than that_, he thought desperately, while his fears mocked him, reminding him that Aya's reaction to the closing of the seal was anything but subtle.

Aya was deeply asleep in the bedroom, having become strangely lethargic as the tattoo was finished. He worried for her, even as she tiredly explained to him that it was only because Ceres fought her to the very last.

He worried for himself, too. He hadn't told her that he had the same seal placed on him, he hadn't wanted her to know that he suspected something was wrong with him.

He didn't want her to have reason to distrust him.

He stared into his own eyes in the mirror and looked for something different.

_I don't feel different_, he reiterated weakly.

Reaching out, he cracked the bathroom door open. The bedroom was dark, but the ray of light from the door cast directly over the bed, outlining his sister as she slept peacefully in her tangle of covers.

And in that moment he knew for certain that it hadn't worked, as his whole body jolted with heat. All he wanted was to touch her. To crawl into that bed and run his hands over her body as she shifted lazily beneath him.

To taste his name on her lips.

_To taste her_.

With a soft cry, he slammed the door shut. Spun back to the mirror and grasped the edge of the sink counter in his shaking hands. Tighter and tighter, until the blood drained away, leaving them white and mottled.

He didn't look at the mirror, he stared down into the drain. He imagined his emotions as a whirlpool of shame and confusion, dragging him under. Eventually he knew he would have to open his mouth, have to take a breath, and then it would get inside.

Filling him up. Drowning him out.

At the same time...He lifted hurt eyes and locked them tiredly with those in the mirror. At the same time, there was this growing spark inside him, this tightening knot of defiance.

It wanted to give in. To stop fighting. Stop hurting. It whispered to him constantly, its voice growing louder in the din of his confusion.

There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing wrong with being in love with someone. The _world_ was wrong. The world was stupid, and selfish, and couldn't see beyond its own nose.

His eyes darkened, narrowing slightly.

If they loved one another...If they...

_Why is it any of their business then, if we choose to be together?_

He shuddered uneasily, as he felt his entire being trying to reach out and embrace that question. Try to shift the words around to make a reason to defend the actions he wanted to take.

_I am_, he thought numbly.

_I am in love with Aya._

_I think I always have been._

He didn't feel better. He didn't feel worse. He just felt...tired.

_I'm so tired of fighting_.

He slid down and sat on the cold bathroom tile, leaning his back against the wall and staring at his empty hands.

_I'm so tired..._

_So..._

He closed his eyes, the tension slowly spilling out of his shoulders.

_So lost._

_( So__ why fight it anymore? Right and wrong in this world is always subjective. And so many people never look beyond what somebody else tells them. Never think for themselves. )_

_Excuses.__ All words meant to make me feel better. Make me feel as if this is okay..._

At the moment, he was so mixed up that he couldn't say if it was okay or not. He didn't trust his moral compass anymore, as the only thing it seemed to ever point to was Aya.

_( Why__ are you struggling with this? You've already admitted that you are in love with her. What more is there to think about? )_

_I do love her. I have always loved her. But more important than admitting it, is what I will do about it..._

_( You__ already know what to do. )_

_No. Nothing has to change because of this. Nothing more than me, anyway._

_( You're__ prepared to act out the rest of your life? )_

_I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure Aya's safety and happiness._

_( What__ if--- )_

_No! I know where you're going. 'What if it's me?' 'What if I am the one that can make her happy?' Just stop. I'm in love with her, and she's the only person in this world that I want..._

_But I **do** love her. And that means I care what she thinks, what she feels._

_And...__And she doesn't feel the same way._

He flinched, drawing in tighter to himself. His marked skin stung, the tape pulling slightly. But the pain actually helped, gentled the uproar in his mind to something close to a manageable level.

Close, because he had no idea how to deal.

_( How__ do you know that? How? )_

_I would be able to tell. Aya isn't good at hiding her emotions, she's not that kind of a person._

_( And__ you think you are? )_

"I know I am," he whispered forlornly, feeling despair like a cold weight in his stomach_. I feel like I've been hiding my whole life, in one way or another._

_( You're__ crazy. No one can act out their whole life. No one can keep something like this under wraps forever. )_

_Watch me_, he thought. _Watch me._

_I have no choice._

_

* * *

_TBC...


	17. Surrender

**Steps**

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

* * *

Surrender

Deciding something, and actually doing it, are two completely different things, as any good procrastinator will tell you.

He knew this. As he also knew that _no one_ could be on-guard every waking moment of their life.

He swore to himself that he wouldn't _try_, but he kept seeing paths. Actions he could take. Words he could say. _Steps_ he could take to bring himself closer to what he wanted.

Which was simultaneously closer to Aya---He wasn't dancing around that subject anymore. And in a way, things were better, because lying to the self never worked.

And in some way he was worse, because temptation was a persistent shadow, always one step before or behind him. And always connected at his heels.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, he could see one of those paths, could clearly see the steps that he could take.

His hands clenched on the door-frame, nails biting into the cheap wood, and he took one step back, slowly letting go. And then he took another step. He closed the door, but he didn't stop backing away, not until he _had_ to. Not until there was nowhere left to go.

The shower curtain rustled against his back, pulling cloth tighter and rubbing against the ink-filled pinpricks in his flesh. He flinched as the wounds protested in a dull ache, but it was only a shot of cold---it did nothing to snap him out of his despair.

Or his desire.

He slowly sat down on the floor again, feeling very strange. Feeling oddly hollow and light, but also like he was moving. That his every breath was filling him up, and emptying him out.

His hand rested in seeming innocence on his throat, then slid slowly down, running hesitant fingertips over an already erect nipple. He closed his eyes on a breath, and the image in his head became brighter, clearer.

_She crawled over him, her gold hair spilling around her eyes, and tickling against his cheek as he lifted his face to her. Offering, begging, he wasn't sure which, and he didn't care. She smiled at him, breathed into him, the soft weight of her breasts settling on his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck._

He stared at the edge of the counter across from him as his hand slid farther down, undoing his jeans with practiced ease and shaking fingers. With aching slowness his hand pushed hesitantly down. He tilted his head back to the wall and took a hard breath.

He brought his knees up slightly, imagining her weight sitting on his thighs, her skirt falling all around them as she leaned into him and arched her back.

_Blue eyes burned through gold lashes, touch me, she said, and he did. His thumbs traced over her collarbones, down. Her lips parted on a soft moan as she pushed closer to his hands, and he followed blindly, kissing her cheek, her throat. He breathed on the plunging line of her bra, then edged slowly down, nuzzling his face against soft, firm flesh. He licked one quick line across the white cotton, then closed his lips around the faint outline of the tip and sucked, rubbing his tongue and teeth gently against her. He pulled back and blew a slow breath on her, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as the nipple stiffened through the wet cloth, and she shuddered._

_Here_, there was no guilt. No blame and fear. There was only pleasure. Heat and love, and her ready willingness to express to him all three.

_Aki, she whispered in that tone, and he surged forward, bucking his hips up as he pressed his back into the wall._

_She followed the move in his mind, even as his hand followed it in reality. She placed her hands on his shoulders and bowed back, sweeping her hair across her throat and pressing her hips closer. His hands found her waist, her breasts; they slid up into her hair, around her head. He pulled her mouth down to his, deepened the kiss before it even had a chance to dream about being chaste_.

The taste of her...

The taste of Aya...

He flung his head back as he climaxed, throwing tears everywhere. He hadn't even realized he had cried.

But once he realized, before the wave of pleasure could even crest, and his eyes could once again focus on the empty edge of counter, he began to cry harder. He brought his wet hands up to his wet face and wept brokenly.

( ) *

Later, he managed to physically pull himself together. He told himself, that as long as he didn't think about it, he could deal with it.

Which, of course, was a direct contradiction of the truth. But at that moment he was ready to do whatever it took to get him from one moment to the next.

The next moment, though, found him standing next to the shadowed bed, staring blankly down at her face. She was peaceful as she slept. Her lips relaxed, her eyebrows smoothed, and her very aura displacing a halo of serenity. It tried to reach out to him, to encompass him, but he couldn't relax.

_He wouldn't allow himself to relax_.

Relaxation implied acceptance, and look where acceptance had gotten him. His mind instantly flinched back from his recent actions, holding desperately to that comfortable numbness that had settled over him after his crying fit.

If he didn't think, he would be fine.

He slowly lowered himself to the floor, his eyes now level with her, though hers remained closed.

He blinked one long, tired sweep of lashes, then folded his hands on the edge of the bed. He pressed his forehead to the backs of his hands and stared at the shadows that patch-worked the floor.

If he took deep breaths, and thought of nothing else...he would be okay.

He would be okay...

* * *

TBC...


	18. Grey

Grey

A pillow smacked her in the face first thing in the morning.

"Come on, sleepy-head, are you going to sleep your life away?"

She shoved the pillow off and glared at her strangely cheerful brother. He smiled at her innocently, then headed to the bathroom.

_Just for that, I'm not getting up_, she thought resolutely, or as resolutely as a half-asleep girl could. Grabbing the pillow she just shoved, and hugging it to her chest, she closed her eyes once more.

"Aya!"

She flung the pillow away, shooting straight up in the bed.

Her brother stood over her, hands on his hips, and apparently time had shifted, because his hair was sticking up in wet clumps, and he was wearing a towel.

Just a towel.

As she watched blearily he dropped his hands and headed over to his bag, which was half-spilled across the desk now. He began sifting though the small bundle of clothes there, clearly looking for something clean to wear.

A drop of water slowly rolled down his bare back, absorbing into the edge of the towel and turning the pure white slightly grey.

She blinked. Then blinked again. Then she rubbed tiredly at her eyes.

"Get up already," he said, far less cheerful than before. He turned back to her, clutching a pair of dark trousers in his hands. "We have to leave very soon, so go take a shower while I get dressed."

She stared at him in confusion, swaying slightly as if she would topple over back into unconsciousness at any second.

He dropped his pants to his side, then stomped over to the bed, ripping the warm covers off her in one abrupt motion. "Get up! Come on! We have to be at the train station in an hour."

She glanced at the drawn curtains, realizing it was streetlight, and not sunlight, which pressed against their edges. Then she shuddered as the cool air hit her bare arms, giving her goose-bumps, and rousing a few synapses in her brain to make an attempt at connection. She was still _so_ tired.

"I'm up, I'm up," she muttered disgruntledly, crawling to the edge of the bed and nearly tumbling off. She sat with one leg tucked under her, and stared at the worn, unmemorable carpet.

Aki huffed once, then tossed the covers back to the bed, taking up his pants once more. Then he looked at her pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

She looked back at him stupidly, clearly not understanding.

"I need to change," he prompted, hitching his towel up some as if to underline his statement.

_Oh, right_. She had meant to say that aloud, but her body didn't want to cooperate with her this morning. Er..._evening_. That was probably for the best, she decided, since that comment was practically inviting mockery. He was in a mood tonight, and she wasn't sure why.

_Musta__ got up on the wrong side of the bed, or something_.

_At least he got up,_ her own brain nudged her pointedly.

_Ugh, now there's no getting back to sleep, not when I start thinking in complete sentences_. She sighed and glared at him, all at the same time.

It said, _I'm up, damn it, now leave me alone_.

Casting her a measuring look, as if to make sure this wasn't some placating trick, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

_Oh. My. God._

Forcing herself to get her feet under her and get up, she stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door.

Then she stuck her tongue out at it.

( ) *

He slumped as the bathroom door closed, falling on the edge of the bed and slapping his hands roughly over his face.

What was he doing...

He swore he wouldn't try. He swore!

The towel...

_I should've grabbed my clothes, changed in the bathroom, then woke her up. A few moments wouldn't have mattered in the long run._

Instead, he had purposefully left his next change in the bedroom, conveniently giving himself a reason to go back in there. He got some strange thrill parading around her virtually undressed, of flirting with her so subtly that she wouldn't be able to call him out on it. Not without seriously second-guessing herself.

He pulled his own hair a little, and made some sound deep in his throat. A sound of frustration and self-loathing_._

_I said I wouldn't do this. I said I wouldn't!_

_( You're__ only human. Did you really think you could be around her everyday and not act on your feelings? )_

He stared a long moment into his own emotions, then dropped his hands, exhaling deeply.

_I give up. I really do_.

He wasn't sure what he was giving up exactly, but he could feel something shifting in him again. Thoughts and ideas rearranging themselves to better suit his desires. His desires coming forward to compliment his emotions.

And the guilt...

The guilt slid right off his shoulders.

The line of his eyebrows smoothed out, his lips relaxed, allowing his held-breath to finally escape him. He sat up, releasing his death-grip on the towel..._that he was still wearing_.

_( Now__. Isn't that better? )_

_For who?__ For who is this better? Consciously accepting wrongs as rights---still doesn't make it right._

_( You're__ looking at this from the wrong angle. The first question you ask is: What is wrong and what is right? But the second question is far more important: Who gets to decide? )_

He thought about that for a long second, then shook his head. _I don't know._

_( There__ are no absolutes when it comes to morals and emotions. Every situation, every rule has exceptions. And then you have to question who first put these rules in place, and what were their intentions. Then you have to decide what works, and what doesn't. )_

_I have to manipulate the grey area of my conscience, until it is skewed just enough to fully accept a blurring of the line between wrong and right._

_Then justify my actions with the same reasoning. I get it. Really, I do. And it's true, there is no absolute wrong or right..._

_Still doesn't mean it's right._

_( Doesn't__ mean it's wrong. )_

_It just is_, he concluded, feeling the decision solidify in him.

_Some things just are._

* * *

TBC...


	19. Reflection

Reflection

Light and darkness blended beyond the glass. He and Aya were the only sleepy passengers in a moderately comfortable train-car. There had been an older couple that had shared the passing miles with them hours ago, but he had closed his eyes 'momentarily' and now they were gone. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that his 'moment' of rest had lasted nearly a half hour.

Aya was still asleep beside him, drifting in and out of consciousness as the night edged on. With her chin tucked to her chest in repose, the long tail of her hair curled around the base of her throat. It had been catching his attention infrequently the entire ride, the strands glittering an almost metallic gold, and calling to his curious fingers. Every so often she would shift, and some new enticing feature would distract him.

But he kept returning to that curl of hair.

_No wonder Touya and Yuuhi wanted her. No wonder all my friends at school always wanted to_...

His hand tightened into a fist on his thigh.

_Aya is so beautiful, but she never much had time for boys before this._ He remembered teasing her about a lack of boyfriends. It wasn't a lack of interest on her peers' part, but more a lack of...separation.

Aya rarely went anywhere without him, not even wanting to. And while her girlfriends seemed perfectly happy with that, the presence of ones brother really seemed to dissuade potential 'suitors'.

_It didn't help that I was---am---so protective of her._

On more than one occasion he remembered turning away curious eyes---it hadn't even occurred to him that he might be a little too involved in his sister's love-life then...

_And now..._

_Now, I know what it is I'm doing. But I don't think I'll stop._

Emotions are antithesis to logic. There were many things he knew he should do, or in some cases, shouldn't do. Those things never really seemed to coincide with reality.

Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his arm out along the back, resting it there for a long moment. Then he slowly slid it down until his fingers were half-buried in that soft gold hair.

He relaxed slowly as the silken strands wound through his fingers. He tilted his head back and stared calmly up at the shadowed ceiling. Someone had written their initials in burgundy lipstick two feet to their right. He studied the hastily scrawled characters and tried to imagine exactly how they had achieved that.

Or more importantly, why?

One of life's mysteries, he supposed. It was full of them, after all.

His vision of her had shifted again. Actually, it was less of a shift, and more of a ...clearing. At the same time, he was worried that it was all in his head. That he was becoming too aware of her, and as a result, would begin to spin her reasons and actions in such a way that would benefit him most. And then completely miss what they really were.

At the same time, he knew his own behaviour had changed slightly. He usually swung between extremes of his character. Extremely sweet, extremely kind and doting. And then extremely antagonistic, prodding at her and teasing her until she lost her temper.

When she yelled at him, her hair flying and her eyes bright---he felt a little crazy. He could hardly breathe; his heart would be beating so hard.

It was all about reaction. It was about seeing her respond to him, of knowing that he could affect her, and seeing the physical manifestation of that affect.

It was all to pacify that urge in him---that urge to make her see his emotions, to make her acknowledge that he was in love with her.

At the same time, it was a torment, throwing wood at fire, in hopes to control the flame. Accepting the truth about his emotions had given him a measure of peace for a short while, but that had quickly gone up in smoke.

Peace hadn't withstood the test of time. It had lasted only as long as her shower. When she had stepped out in her more solemn clothes, her wet hair pulled back to leave her face fresh and clean, he knew instantly that any peace he ever achieved was forever going to be temporary now. The strength of emotion she inspired was a direct contradiction to the word 'peace'.

This was not quite how he'd imagined it.

At the same time, he couldn't imagine loving anyone else. It fit in his head. Aya and love. Though those pieces were never supposed to meet up on any neural pathway, they connected quite seamlessly in his heart.

A hand stilled his, and his head snapped around in shock, not having realized that she had awakened again. With a far too serious look, she slid his hand out of her hair, then twined her fingers through his. She turned to him.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep."

He blinked at that, still breathless at being caught touching her. Even if it was a platonic touch---No. None of his touches felt platonic anymore.

"What? Why would you be sorry? I'm glad that one of us could get some rest."

"But I left you here alone," she frowned.

He smiled gently, feeling his heart swell painfully in his chest. "I wasn't alone, of course. You were here right beside me," _and__ I was able to look at you as much as I want, without fear of being caught_.

She squeezed his fingers, resting them on her knee. " I doubt I was a very good conversational partner. And...and..." her hand tightened further. She turned and stared blankly at the back of the seat in front of her. "I'm sorry. You know, for all of this."

He looked confused for a long moment, then shook his head slightly. "Aya, don't be like that."

Her head shot up, and she stared at him in bewilderment. "Nani?"

He placed his hand on top of hers, catching her in a double-hold and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her soft wrist. "Don't be something you're not," he clarified. "You are my loud, brash sister. Don't you ever forget that." _Even if I do from time to time_.

She took a deep breath, and he decided to blame her contriteness on sleep deprivation. It wasn't like her.

"Our lives are pretty much destroyed," she began quietly, her bangs falling over her eyes as she seemed to shrink in on herself. "Mom is sick; she blames me for everything that happened." Her shoulders drew in even further, and a tremor shook her words. "Our family has turned against us. We've lost everything..." she took a choked breath, her voice becoming smaller and smaller. "And dad..." her nails dug unconsciously into the back of his hand. "Dad is..."

"Gone," he said quietly, when she couldn't seem to get her words out anymore. He couldn't seem to bring himself to say the proper word for it either. Their father was so much more than 'gone'.

She nodded miserably, still refusing to look at him. "And it's all my fau---"

"Shut up!" he snapped sharply, having vaguely realized where she was heading with this speech from the very beginning, but refusing to allow himself to believe it. _It hurt._

He pulled sharply on her caught hand, squeezing her fingers to almost the point of pain, and forcing her to look at him. He had a glimpse of shocked, tear-filled eyes, before he was up, dragging her to him blindly. His arms were tight, like bands around her, and he shook her once, the emotion in him so strong that he couldn't help but physically react.

She was limp in his hold, not reaching nor pushing away. He had clearly caught her off-guard.

And it wasn't about his desire for her. Or his impossible love. It _was_ about love, and shared memories, and knowing every line and hollow of someone else's soul. As simple and complex as the feelings he had always carried for her, right from the beginning.

"Mom's distraught. Someday she will get better, Aya. And she will realize the truth of what happened here. She doesn't hate you, all right? She just doesn't know the truth yet. And our family..." He paused, tightening his hold on her, even while being all too aware that he was holding her far too tightly already. "The way I see it, I am your family, Aya. Not them. And don't you ever forget that.

"And dad..." He panted, the pain stinging inside him. "That wasn't your fault," he continued more quietly. The blurring of his vision made his eyes utterly useless, so he closed them, hiding his face in the curve of her neck. "That was no ones fault, but that man who was our grandfather." _Because he's not anymore.__ I refuse to call that monster family_.

"But Ceres..."

_And that was my fault. I don't know how, or when, or even why._..

"Ceres isn't you, Aya. No more than I am the man she claims that I am. You don't believe I'm that man, do you?"

She shook her head vehemently, _her arms_ now squeezing around him, tighter and tighter. "Aki is Aki," she whispered.

He relaxed at the clear conviction in her voice. The problem was, he now believed that was true. He just didn't believe that either of them really knew _who_ exactly he was.

"Well, Aya is Aya," he returned.

She did a sort of snort/sniffle, clearly finding amusement in how he had turned her words back against her. The hand that was fisted in the back of his shirt slowly unwound, then reached up and tugged hard on a lock of his hair.

"Ow," he said, though he smiled weakly as he did so.

"Brat."

Then her hand gentled, falling down his hair to rest warmly on his bare neck. "I love you, Aki."

He flinched, not because of what she said, but because those were the exact words he wanted to hear so badly.

"I love you, too, Aya."

_Always_.

* * *

TBC...


	20. Angle

Angle

It was the last hour of the trip that he finally lost the reigns on his curiosity. He knew it was his own jealousy, and inviting speculation, but he couldn't help but stare miserably out at the world passing beyond their window, and ask, "You miss them, don't you?"

Aya lifted her head curiously, the strawberry Pocky she was nibbling on still caught between her teeth. She bit down, chewing slowly. He could never understand why she took bites. He much preferred to lick the soft coating, enjoying its sweetness for as long as he could.

The question was too broad, and he knew it.

"Who?"

He felt like he was speaking in slow motion. "Yuuhi and Touya."

Crack. The long, thin stick broke in her hand. She looked at him with wide eyes. They were in a new car, and there were others, but for the moment they were completely alone.

Strangely enough she looked confused for a long moment. "I miss Yuuhi. I'm worried that he hates me..."

He wasn't expecting that, he turned to her slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why would he hate you?" _Aya, all of this has really shaken her up. She usually doesn't bother with the deeper thoughts of how people felt about her_. Her consideration clearly revealed how much Yuuhi had come to mean to her. He'd be lying if he didn't say that part of him resented it.

She shrugged indifferently, but it was never an act that she was particularly good at. She was far too passionate for that word to ever stick to her. "I left. I ran away. I didn't even tell him goodbye." She gave him a quick, self-depreciating smile. "And Yuuhi's not the type to see the bigger picture all at once."

"I think you're wrong."

She gave him a dubious look at that, clearly disbelieving.

"Okay, I'll admit, from the little I know of him-yes, he probably was mad at you." At her wry look, he conceded that she was likely right, and amended his statement. "_Is_ mad at you. But I seriously doubt that he could ever hate you. Under his anger, he probably realizes your reasons, and sometime in the future I am sure he will see that this was for the best."

"He's gonna see it as me not trusting him. Not believing that he can protect me. But," she shook her head stubbornly. "That wasn't it at all. Protecting me shouldn't be his job. I couldn't stand for him to get hurt because of me..."

Well, he couldn't deny her suspicions on that front, even though he really wanted to. It wasn't as if he knew Yuuhi very well, but he did know that the human heart seemed to take things personal. Even when it had no reason to.

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he sat there in silence for several moments.

Aya sighed. "As for Touya..."

He went completely still, not even daring to breathe. _This_ was going to _hurt_.

She turned her eyes away from him, but that strangely confused air returned to her. She fidgeted a moment, then shook her head once. "It's really strange, but to be honest...I haven't really thought of Touya since I left..."

His eyes widened.

"I mean, I _have_. But...it's different somehow." She shook her head again, as if something within it was out of order. "I miss him, of course, but...I think I miss Yuuhi more. The feelings are still there, they're just...not so intense anymore..."

He stared at her, wanting to quash the sense of relief that was welling up so fast in him. Aya was upset, Aya was sad, he had no right to feel happiness.

But he _felt_ lighter.

He relaxed slightly back into the seat.

"It's strange, you know. Like," she closed her hand into a fist, then pressed that fist down over her heart. "Like something has shifted. Not just Ceres, but something in 'me'. I can see why I liked Touya. He's strong, he's attractive. But..."

Aki stared at the seat in front of him, his spine coiling tighter and tighter with each positive word she spoke about the older man.

"But I can also see it from another angle now." She lifted her hand from her heart and ruffled it once, lightly through her bangs. "Like a veil has been lifted from my eyes." Then she shrugged, and that confusion was back. And he was looking at her again, because he couldn't seem to help himself.

"I don't really know him. And...and it's strange, but I feel like part of that draw...just isn't there anymore. Like, when we silenced Ceres," her hand, back to her heart, open now and resting gently, wonderingly. "Something...shifted."

He didn't understand. She wasn't really making sense.

"Do you think..." _Just say it_, he stressed. He was already hoping it. "Do you think part of your feelings for him were...somehow being filtered through Ceres?"

_But why?__ Ceres didn't even seem to like him_.

A startled look, but one strangely enough lined with relief. "Yes! That's it! That's exactly what I'm trying to say!" Then she frowned. "But why? Ceres didn't seem to like him at all..."

A shot of ice through his lower stomach at hearing his own thoughts fall from her lips. "I don't know," he said, hoping she didn't notice the slight roughness around the edges of his voice. "I mean, we don't know enough about the...'Tennyo situation' to really know, you know."

"That's a lot of 'knowing'," she teased wryly, clearly speaking on auto-pilot as her eyes seemed trained somewhere on the inside of her own head. Then a hard breath, with a subtle air of acceptance. "Maybe I am just that fickle."

"You're not fickle, Aya," he commented, leaning back in the seat, feeling the tension slowly spilling out of his spine. "You're just young." Eyes half-closed, a lazy, open sprawl to his fingers on the armrest. Funny how he could go from steel to softness in only seconds. The consistent motion of the train, the hush of the night and the more distance they gained from their broken world...he felt sleepy.

"And there's a difference?" she continued in that same wry voice. "Besides, you're just as young as I am."

"Older by seven minutes," he muttered.

She stuck her tongue out at him, he didn't have to look at her to know that. "Oh, that's right, _Niichan_. And seven minutes is such a _looooong_ time."

"It can be."

A long pause as she seemed to turn that over. "That's true," she agreed. "But I still say it was because you were scared."

"Scared," he sputtered, rousing just enough to look at her through one open eye as if she was insane.

Finger to her chin, she gave a nod of mock-seriousness. Her nap had clearly refreshed her, and now she was ready to play.

About the time he was actually starting to feel sleepy, of course. "I was _not_ scared."

"How do you know," she asked smugly. "It's not as if you can remember."

"Well, it's not like you can remember _either_."

"Aki," she said, now sticking that finger straight up in the air. "Law of averages."

"You're insane," he muttered disgruntledly, as if the previous look hadn't been enough. He wasn't going to argue something so stupid with her.

She smacked his arm. Hard. It was going to be a _long_ trip.

* * *

TBC...


	21. Patterns

Patterns

* * *

Life settles into patterns.

In the middle of an emotional uproar, it doesn't seem as if anything will ever be the same again, and maybe it won't. but the human condition is so adaptable that...patterns emerge even out of chaos.

Creatures of habit. It didn't take them long to find an apartment, to find jobs to pay for that apartment as soon as their money ran out. They lived weeks like they were refugees, never settling in, looking over their shoulders, jumping at every noise. But slowly those patterns began to re-emerge.

As time passed and no one came for them, found them-When no one pointed them out instantly on the street when they dared to lift their faces to the sun. Caution still tied their hands, but those binds were flexible now, they didn't bleed every time they tried to move.

Patterns gave a measure of familiarity, of safety.

Because a wise person knows that it's always the small things that add to the quality of life.

Even if you lived on stolen time.

( ) *

In the mornings, Aki always awoke first. Sometimes the first thing he saw was Aya, and sometimes it was the ceiling with its patterns of Braille and glow in the dark galaxies. Depending on the day.

There was a single bed and a futon they had bought second-hand. The futon was old and worn, and little better than a blanket on the floor, but in many ways he preferred it to the bed.

In the futon he could keep his eyes trained on those man-made stars, if not his mind. In the bed he always ended up on the edge, curled on his side and watching miserably as Aya slept on obliviously.

He heard her wherever he was, though. Soft sighs and little murmurs, sheets shifting as her arms slid up to embrace her pillow. Sometimes those sounds made it into his dreams, and he would drag the pillow over his head, wanting nothing more than to be ignorant again. To not understand the reason his eyes followed her. The reason his every sense trained on her when she was in the same room.

And there were nights when he was weak. Where his eyelashes drifted lazily down, and he let his mind walk the paths it wanted, where his hands followed it down those paths, and he bit his lip, wanting nothingmore than to soothe that sting with kisses.

He knew it was dangerous to draw those lines in the air, to trace them with his fingers, and see them behind his eyes. Because the morning always came, and in the morning, he was her brother. He pulled that costume back on and he pretended he was innocent. That he wasn't sick and twisted.

He teased her and helped her, did everything that a 'brother' was supposed to do. It wasn't hard. Hard was seeing that line, and making sure he never crossed too far over it. Hard was catching himself when he started to fall.

It didn't help when she did things like _this_.

Aki stared with wide eyes as Aya dug intently through the top drawer of their dresser, wiggling her hips slightly in impatience. The curve of her shoulder was flushed pink, her hair dark and heavy with water. She was grumbling to herself as she shoved several scraps of cloth out of her way, something about work, but he couldn't piece the words together. On their own his eyes slowly slid down, catching on the bare hollow of her knees, that always seemed especially interesting to him.

This was the worst and best part about their small, one room apartment. This was the worst and best part about having her complete trust.

"Ah-ha," she said triumphantly, jerking a small scrap of pink cotton from the recesses of the over-stuffed drawer.

His head turned with an audible snap as he forced his eyes elsewhere, straining them near to the point of pain just to focus on something that wasn't her.

Out of sight, out of mind, right? He wished.

But then, he didn't. He was so in love, and sometimes he couldn't...force himself to hate it. Sometimes it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

And those were the times that worried him, because through those rose-coloured glasses, the unattainable seemed...so close. Like he could reach out and actually touch that which he desired, like he could take it into his hands, his arms, and make it his. _If only he would just reach_.

Sometimes plans spun in his mind. Scenarios. The effort it took to ignore those...possibilities...well, it was getting harder to find it every day.

"Aki," she said as if just then realizing he was there. She didn't even check the knot of her towel, didn't cross her arms over her chest to make sure it stayed in place. She turned to him and smiled, completely comfortable in his presence.

Aya wasn't particularly self-conscious. Sometimes he _really_ wished she was a little more modest.

"I will probably be getting off late again tonight, so you really don't have to wait up for me."

He looked at her because he had to, because that's what you did when someone was speaking to you. He wanted to tell her to go get dressed, and then they could talk about whatever she wished, but he didn't. He couldn't allow himself to draw attention to the fact that even noticed such a thing.

"We've discussed this, Aya." Short and prompt. _Just go back in the bathroom and get dressed already_.

She rolled her eyes, putting the back of one wrist on her hip and curving her fingers loosely. He didn't understand it at all, but his desire always wanted to read something into the open curve of her fingers. It was a habit he was beginning to notice.

"Aki, it's been at least a month, I don't think I need a chaperone anymore, okay?"

No. Not okay. "What if they find us? What if they grab you on the street? No," he shook his head, actually forgetting all about her state of undress with the horror of that thought. "We can't take that chance, Aya. Don't you see?"

She looked touched for a second, then that characteristic stubbornness returned. She couldn't ever just listen to him, now could she?

"Well, what about you," she waved. "What do you really think you can do to stop them? Get captured, too?"

He shrugged, a careless gesture for a serious question. "Run or return, I'm going to go where you are, so yes. If they take you, then they will have to take me, too."

Now those fingers were closed, a mottled fist on her hip.

"Besides," he continued before her emotions could simmer into words. "There are other things to be thinking about. You're a young woman who is particularly pretty...there are lots of dangerous people out there who would love to take advantage of that."

"You..." then a curious, non-combative look. "You think I'm pretty?"

There was a flutter of something telling him this was treading far too close to that line, but he ignored it. It wasn't wrong for him to compliment his sister. Or use her vanity to distract her from forcing an argument. Especially when he was _not_ going to compromise on this.

"Of course, baka. We are identical twins after all." And still, despite everything, he was her brother.

A huff, and then a tongue stuck out in his direction. "I'm prettier than you," she declared, then flounced right back into the bathroom to finish her dressing, forgetting to argue her point with him further.

On its own, his head turned slowly, his eyes flicking to the drawer that she had left open, overflowing with cloth and soft colours.

He slowly reached out, resting a hand on the cheap wood-grain edge. With a neutral face he slowly pushed the drawer in.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He had no idea who had come up with that stupid saying.

* * *

TBC...


	22. Venture

Venture

* * *

Aya stood in the bathroom, feeling both irritated and happy. She'd be lying if she said this life was easy, but it was getting easier every day. She just...wasn't used to this...living with Aki. Yes, they had lived together all their lives, but this was different somehow. This...sharing space. _Sharing a small, limited amount of space_.

It was disconcerting to realize that she was getting to know him better. Disconcerting because, prior to this situation, she had thought she knew him best. But...all the time she was learning new details, new facets that she just hadn't seen before.

Like...he was a whole lot neater than she had given him credit for. Nine chances out of ten that he had closed that drawer behind her. She did that sometimes, purposefully disrupted the order of things just to see if he'd come behind her and correct it. She didn't understand why, but it both amused and irritated her. While she was sure it just plain irritated him.

And there was the moodiness. She knew, with how things had fallen apart on them, that it was to be expected. And she really couldn't fault him for getting upset sometimes, but she just wasn't used to it.

Seeing her brother frazzled. She was the emotional twin, while he was always the more grown-up. It was their roles and she had gotten comfortable with them. But lately he had been a curious mix of worry and teasing and exasperation, tugging playfully on her hair one moment, only to turn around and throw a fit about something completely irrelevant the next.

People deal with change and stress in many different ways, she excused mentally.

While her coping mechanism had been some uncharacteristic clinging. Which was why she had suggested she start walking home now. It had to be wearing on his nerves, seeing her every moment they weren't at work. It had gotten to feel like they were the only real people in the world. She was still keeping her distance from the people at work, still wary of settling in, of letting people get to know her. She was still acting as if they were all potential enemies. All potential exposure. And outside of work, she was at home.

She hadn't even realized she was clinging so hard to his presence, not until Rei, one of her co-workers, had asked her to come with him to a nearby cake-shop on their lunch break.

She had been surprised, having thought that being so quiet nobody would notice her. And all she had been able to think was...Aki probably wouldn't like someone else coming along with them to lunch.

And when she mentioned she already had plans, Rei had said, 'With that blonde guy, right? If you're already seeing someone...'

She hadn't heard him after that. All she could think about was that she...didn't like this version of her. This Aya-lite, with half the personality and stubbornness, too afraid of the unknown to even venture beyond the protection of her brother's shadow.

It _wasn't_ like her.

And what's more, it had to be driving him crazy. To constantly have her underfoot, to see her every day and every night, and not even have his books or music to give him the illusion of escape. No wonder he had been so...moody lately.

She frowned at the mirror, undoing her towel to wrap it around her hair instead, squeezing the excess moisture out to help it dry.

But when she had tried to pull back, to give him a little breathing room...well, he hadn't even wanted to consider her suggestion.

She didn't want to be a burden, but he just wouldn't compromise on this. She hated when he got in this stubborn mind-set, because, despite years of trying, she still hadn't figured out how to get around it.

She didn't understand defeat, so she had to concede that they were at yet another impasse, and then try again later.

Someday he was going to have to see things her way, though. It was only inevitable, if she kept trying.

He couldn't be stubborn forever, right?

* * *

TBC...


	23. Scent

**Scent**

**

* * *

**

There was that line again. He had stubbornly avoided it this morning when he had turned his head and closed that drawer.

But this was holding more of him then just his eyes. Her scent wafted up, faint and familiar from the crumpled heap of towel she'd left on the bathroom counter.

Behind closed doors, the conscience was easier to ignore. Without the buffer of suddenly being found out, there was just him and his will, and his will was always weaker at night.

With softly parted lips he reached out a slow, steady hand and rested it on the white cloth. It was still slightly damp.

The image in the mirror only revealed his mouth, his chin tilted down and the long length of his bangs fallen over his eyes. There was a breath on his lips, a peak of teeth and tongue.

He lifted the towel to his face and took a deep breath, his eyes shutting as his body reacted.

His conscience was silent-some things were stronger than right and wrong.

He discarded his clothes haphazardously on the floor, climbed into the shower and reflexively leaned into the corner to avoid that first slap of ice-cold water.

As the water slowly heated, he stood, letting it hit only his legs as he held that towel, rubbing his thumb over the cloth in almost too intent circles. Then he stepped back until his hot back came flush with the cold tile, his shoulders and then his head.

He brought his free hand up, then slowly closed his eyes and licked a long, wet line across the palm.

His skin tasted like soap and water, and salt, and he imagined that hers tasted the same. Gods, he wanted to taste her.

He brought her towel back up to his face, took a deep breath, then slid his wet fingers down, wrapping them with a familiar squeeze around his swollen length.

A moan as his hot palm rubbed against the even hotter flush of his skin. He curved his hand, cupping the flesh and drawing it tight across veins and muscle. It twitched, his thighs shaking as a flutter clinched hard at his stomach.

Gods, it happened so much easier when her scent led him. He didn't even have to hold an image in his mind, all he had to do was breathe and feel, and let go...

He set a slow pace, because he knew he wouldn't last long. He could already feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, the tightening in his lower stomach that squeezed sticky lines of moisture out to spread across his hand. His hips lifted away from the wall, a gentle, primal rocking. He felt light-headed, and slow-moved, and as if there was a star of ice growing in his stomach.

He tightened his grip, meeting no resistance as he pumped his hand steadily, up and down, up and down.

The water was pooling shallowly around his feet now, too much falling too fast for the small drain to keep up. He didn't even notice. He bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows as if in pain, keeping his eyes closed because in the darkness of his head he could see her around him, slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of his body.

His nails dug slightly in the towel as he took a harder breath. And another. There was a slight pant to it now, a slight plea. Without conscious thought, his hand sped up on its own, barely reaching the throbbing base before it jerked back up again. He was so close now that he couldn't stop. Hovering, teetering on the edge of pleasure and exhaustion, knowing that he needed one last push to fall.

Another breath, deeper this time as he tried to pull in as much of her scent, as much of _her_ as he could. And then he steadily, quickly took that one last step over the line that he had been taking for weeks now.

"Aya!"

A whisper, swallowed quickly in the rush of water hitting tile. His hips thrust once, hard, arching his back away from the wall as he came, his hard length convulsing in his hand and mixing his seed with water.

He slowly slumped back against the wall and re-learned how to breathe, rebuilt the mask he was facing the world with more and more every day.

Then he pushed away from the tile and reached for the shampoo.

( ) *

The door opened and she went still, biting her lip to keep in a snicker as she heard two bare-footed steps, and then complete silence. Water dripped from the shower curtain in the bathroom.

"Aya...what are you doing?"

_I'm asleep, you dope_. It was so hard not to squirm, especially when she knew she _shouldn't_. Not if she wanted to keep up this game. She was trying so hard not to giggle that she knew there was no way she could possibly fake a snore, so she just lay there, casting all her effort in remaining still.

"Aya?"

"..."

"Aya, come on, I know you're awake." Softer now, as if he wasn't certain of that fact at all. A slow breath and a shuffle, then nothing...

_What is he doing_, she thought impatiently. She was just bursting to move. Her fingers twitched and she hoped hoped _HOPED_ he hadn't seen that.

"..."

Did he go to bed? Oh, she really hoped not! But that would be just like him, to pull such a stealthy move and completely ruin her game. She should look...No, that's what he was waiting for! He was standing there, waiting for her to give up! She just knew it!

"..."

Right?

"..."

A tentative, feather touch on her bare ankle where it peeked from the edge of the blanket. So unexpected that she couldn't help but jerk, her knee drawing up quick and dragging fingers over her heel. She squeaked.

A breath of silence, and then a low growl. "_Aya_."

Her eyes widened, and then the covers were being ripped away with a hard snap. The streetlamp spilling in from their one small window gave him a sinister edge. Giving him a halo of faint light that masked his face in shadow. It did nothing to hide the rigidness of his stance, however, or that one hand he had on his hip in the classic pose of aggravated siblings everywhere.

"Uh...hi?"

"Aya." Low, clear voice. "Bed is _mine_ tonight."

"But _Aki_! I had a really _hard_ day, today." Put-upon whine. Big, big eyes.

"Bed. Mine."

She frowned slightly. He really wasn't in the mood to play tonight. She didn't know why, he had seemed fine when they walked home from her work.

Of course, she had a habit of pushing even when she shouldn't. So she slowly reached up with her arms, and hugged his pillow to her.

He went completely still. A strange sound, before she could identify what it was he spun around on his heel and marched right up to the futon. Without a word, or even a look, he threw himself onto it and quickly dragged the cover over his head.

Aya blinked, then blinked again. "Aki...?" Something clenched painfully in her stomach, making her feel almost nauseous. She never wanted to hurt him...

"..." Silence, not even a shift under the covers. He couldn't possibly be asleep already?

"Aki..." _Please don't be mad at me_...

A sigh. "Aya, just leave it, okay? I'm tired."

He did sound tired. Really, really tired. Just not in a physical sense.

It wasn't in her nature to 'leave it', but she really didn't know what to say to make the situation right. She didn't even know what was wrong.

"I love you?" A quiet, hopeful voice.

A shift, finally, but he didn't look at her. He wound the blanket tighter around him, drawing his feet under.

"I love you, too."

* * *

TBC...


	24. Shift

Shift

* * *

There it was again, a tiny shift, like something was struggling in a trap. Aya blearily sat up, peering around the room, though everything was still mostly shrouded in the darkness of night.

She stared at the rustling covers across from her for several long moments, blinking tiredly while her mind tried to rouse enough to make the connection between sight and thought.

_Aki_, her synapses finally fired helpfully. _Aki's having a nightmare_.

And her still half-asleep body obeyed the subconscious command in that sentence, crawling clumsily from her own blankets and shuddering in the embracing cold of the room. Reaching the futon, she swayed slightly on her knees, yawned, and reached out one hand to wake him.

A tiny shift, that was all it took for the sheet to slide away under her fingertips. It caught on the graceful swell of his hip as he turned over onto his back, falling away and tangling around him. But the way it drew tight across his thighs emphasized more than hid the length of his erection, straining against the loose cloth of his shorts.

Aya stared for several long moments, her hand paused limply in out-reach. Then her eyes widened, and she jerked that hand back as if burned.

Too swift. The shove from sleep to awake, her mind drowned in confusion at the shadows before her, trying to piece the image together in another way. In a way that wasn't showing her what she was seeing.

His hand had flung up over his eyes, and his teeth were visibly gritted through his jaw, but he was still asleep. On his back and his legs spread slightly as if on display, but completely asleep.

_Am I asleep, too?_

She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. She could close them, she could imagine looking away, but she just couldn't seem to get her head to turn.

Biting her lip, she took a hard breath, her heart beating so fast it felt as if it was going to climb up into her throat and choke her. Actually, it felt as if it was growing, expanding outward, filling her body with a slow, insistent pulse.

A tiny voice was telling her to crawl back to the bed, to pull the covers over her head and pretend she was still asleep until it became real.

The bigger part of her was holding her rooted to the spot, in curiosity, and mortification, and...something.

That same something that wouldn't let her look away.

_I want to see..._

She wasn't naive. But she wasn't..._experienced_ either. She had never seen a boy naked before, not outside of doujinshi anyway. From the way the cloth pulled tight across his thighs he looked large, long and slightly curved. She knew it fit, but she couldn't imagine having something like that inside her. She had enough problems with tampons, and they were nowhere near that long. Or wide.

_I want to see..._

Her eyes flicked up to his face.

She didn't want to _see_-see. She was just curious. And did she mention mortified? And trying to justify why she was edging closer, her eyes jumping constantly between his face and the object of her consideration.

_Just say it, Aya. Call it what it is. Quit being so timid._

_Cock_. _Penis_. That part of him that made him different from her..._She wanted to see it_...

The room was dark, filled only with his slightly shallow breathing. She felt so strange, like this _was_ all only just a dream. And she honestly wondered if it was, if she was still asleep.

It was a dangerous thought, a dangerous idea. Because dreams slipped between black and white, they cast off the costume of morality and propriety, and 'consequence' was just a bunch of letters heaped together without meaning.

Nothing within her told her 'no', nothing said 'stop'. Everything told her that she had to be still asleep, because something like this would not happen in the real world.

Hadn't she had a dream like this before?

Something brushed against the edges of her awareness, but it was too fleeting for her to catch. She didn't even try; she let it go, because she knew in dreams, the harder you concentrated on something, the harder it was to grasp.

Slowly she reached out that hand once more, letting it hover over the low-slung sheet. Each finger was curved, but she stretched out her middle finger, letting only the very tip touch.

He moaned audibly, the hard flesh under her fingertip twitching. Her stomach clenched, and she turned her head slowly to look at him, feeling strangely calm, slightly misplaced, as if she was actually standing next to her body, rather than inside it.

At the same time, there was a rope of liquid heat looping around her heart, her centre, tying her to the physical, and squeezing tighter and tighter.

Moisture rose to her skin, a small, visible spot. She curiously slid her finger across it, feeling how it was warm, how it was cooling and slightly sticky.

Another flick of eyes, slower this time, as if everything was moving through honey. Through the cover of her eyelashes, she traced the part of his lips, the peek of teeth clenched in flesh. The dim line of his throat, so graceful and exposed. The rise and fall of his chest, deep, but quicker than serenity.

Her finger moved again, scraping nail, and she watched almost distantly as his hands clenched in the tangled covers, as his hips lifted slightly, taking on the rhythm of her heartbeat, and bumping against her hand. Soft sighs, sweat beading on his temple. Her hand slid down on its own, cupping loosely around him.

And she just sat there for a long moment, holding him, feeling the blood pump beneathe her skin, before she realized what she was doing. Or semi-realized, as she didn't really understand. Her fingers inadvertently squeezed around him as her eyes widened, and his hips thrust up in reaction, his neck arcing as his head dug back into his pillow. His whole body was humming in tension. So was hers, though her mind remained strangely slow-moved and empty, as if she truly was in a dream.

She was beginning to believe it, especially at the distance of her own voice as she watched that shrouded length gently thrust against her hand again and again.

Then he found the right movement, or maybe it was the wrong movement, and she suddenly touched hot skin.

She jerked her hand back with a sharp breath, letting him go, but he didn't stop, and she couldn't make herself go back.

His own hand lifted, fumbling clumsily with the waistband of his shorts in some delicate struggle. Finally his fingers slipped under and in.

Her mouth seemed to go dry as she watched shadows move under cloth. Up and down. Up and down. That spot of wetness grew, the cloth shifting to a darker shade of blue.

The tip of her tongue rubbed over the back of her teeth, the breath escaping soft and slow between her lips. Almost as if in a trance, she reached and tugged, gently, but firmly at the edge of his shorts. Not much, but enough that the cloth pulled tighter across him. He helped her with an incoherent murmur, pushing at the thin elastic and shifting his hips in a strangely exotic move.

She shuddered when he did, her hand falling limp back to her knee as the damp cloth finally surrendered to the inevitable. It still stretched tight across his thighs, but it was framing him now, more than hindering, and the next breath that escaped his lips held a tiny lining of relief, stitching itself right into the heady sound of his desire.

She made some noise; she couldn't seem to help it. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she knew it hadn't been her choice.

He was so long and thick, his skin fair, but blushing with heat and blood in the shadowed darkness of the room.

Her eyes traced the curious curve of this newly unveiled part of him. This part that seemed strangely alive and separate from him, clearly both a source of pleasure and discomfort.

_What is he seeing_, she wondered, as he pushed gently up into his own hand again and again. Whatever it was, it was apparently very compelling, because he continued to quietly moan his approval and desire, needy sounds and incoherent half-words.

His fingers shook as they slid over his own swollen skin, the motion smooth and effortless from the sweat and clear liquid that continued to drip from the tiny slit in the head.

Her tongue tingled, some half-thoughts roused in her mind, but quickly shoved back down. Placing shaking hands on her thighs, she slowly, thoughtlessly, leaned forward, wanting nothing more than to be closer, to see details instead of shadows. To _understand_...What this was, and why it was happening.

And the strange sensations that were coiling tighter and tighter inside her, severing the connection between mind and body and leaving her to float somewhere in between.

Scent filled her, mingling oddly with the fragrance of her shampoo as her hair swung forward to fall around her eyes. It was Aki. And sweat. And a subtle odor that tasted like salt on the back of her tongue. Something strange, but...indescribable. Indescribable, how it seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't remember ever smelling it before.

It made her stomach clench oddly. Made her want to shift on her knees. And keep moving.

Her eyes lifted slowly to his once more, tracing over the furrow between his eyes, the tight line of his jaw. The way the muscles in his neck strained as his body convulsively tightened and relaxed.

Such a mixed expression. Of relief and strain, pleasure and pain, lethargy and urgency.

She had touched herself before, but didn't imagine it was ever quite this intense.

And...and there was a queer beauty to it. Even as half of her was repelled, another, deep part of her was drawn irrepressibly closer.

It was this part of her that held her still, held her captive to the unknown.

"Nnmh!"

His motions were speeding up, the breath panting from him, soft and fast. Her head tilted back to watch as his hand tightened, skin sliding across skin audibly now, a wet, gently slapping sound, as he repeatedly brought the cup of his hand down to the very base, then up again, stretching the flesh tight, making maps of veins.

"Hah! Hah!"

She bit her lip, her fingers clenching involuntarily as his spine began to bow slightly, the muscles in his stomach caving as his thighs shook. His balls seemed to have drawn up tight to his body, and there was a thin, glistening line of spittle that trailed from the corner of his mouth, as he licked at his lips and...something...some phantom-lover that she couldn't see.

_Who_, she thought distantly. _Who_...

Her eyes were wide and dark as she watched, and with a curious detachment, she wondered what it felt like...to be him. To feel so strongly. He was speeding up even further, struggling subconsciously for something that she still could not understand.

She just couldn't imagine it.

She couldn't imagine that long, wet piece of flesh inside her, pushing in and out with such force and speed. She couldn't imagine it ever feeling good. But it had to, or people wouldn't keep doing it.

No, she couldn't really imagine it, but the idea was..._interesting_.

_Compelling_.

Enough so that she knew she would try it. Especially since the harder she tried to imagine it, the hotter her temperature rose. And the more she became aware of an empty, waiting space, right at her centre. It kept squeezing and relaxing, seemingly clenching in the mounting rhythm of his hips.

"..."

A breath, he was saying something. Something between the grit of his teeth. Without thought, she leaned forward, tilting her head to try and catch it.

"Aya..."

_Her name_, she froze in place in surprise and confusion as he murmured her name. _What_...?

"Uhh!" And suddenly, he thrust up one last time on a choked cry, his body twitching as some milky, thick liquid splattered on his thighs and stomach, and across her face as she leaned slightly over him.

His heels dug into the tangled sheet, and the hard length of him convulsed again, shooting another hot stream across her chin and slightly open mouth.

She sat there in shock, feeling his cooling seed beginning to trickle like tears down her face. Almost reflexively her tongue darted out and licked up the tickling moisture on her lips. And her eyes widened further in incomprehension as she tasted salt...and that _scent_.

That scent that made her body throb in ways that she just could not ignore.

Her eyes turned mechanically at movement, and she stared blankly as his eyelashes fluttered slightly, his still wet hand fumbling slowly to rub shakily at his eyes.

_He's waking up..._

Her breath jarred again, and she scrambled up, practically diving for the bed and dragging the covers quickly over her head.

Holding her breath, she curled up into a ball and chanted: _Sleep Sleep I'm Asleep_.

The lingering taste of salt and sex on her tongue made it easier for her to believe it.

A rustle of sheets, the same rustle that woke her so long ago. And she heard sleep-heavy feet stumble across the floor, the subtle shift of slippers leaving carpet for tile, and the bathroom door quietly close. Water ran in the bath, the muffled rush almost as loud as the one in her ears.

She slowly opened her eyes, pushing up on her elbow to look at the door. Her eyes, on their own, flicked to the disheveled mess of his covers, catching and holding on a sparse pattern of darker spots.

Her skin was cooler where it was still wet, tight where it had already dried.

She laid back down, her cover pushed to her waist, and stared up at the ceiling, at the haphazard pattern of glow-in-the-dark stars she and Aki had put up their when they had first moved into the little one-room apartment. They had dimmed to darkness in the night, but that one short moment of light from the open door had awakened them. Their glow was faint, and quickly fading, but she could just barely trace the outline of Saturn.

She thought about the galaxy for a moment, and how she never quite understood its size, or how it all came together. Not understanding, however, did not keep her from appreciating its beauty. Or the irony of its beauty, as it was all fire and gases, and debris floating in the black.

And light. Light far off, or long gone, or simply reflecting off of other surfaces.

Astronomy really wasn't a hobby of hers. She just really liked all the pretty lights. They reminded her of fireflies-

_It was me._

Her heart thumped reflexively, skipping a beat.

_The one...the one he was touching. The one he was kissing. The one he was..._

Her knees squeezed together , curling up under the cover as heat flushed through her middle.

_The one he was **inside**..._

Her hips twitched, her entrance contracting as if he really was.

_Inside_.

A trickle of wetness down between her legs. And her fingers itched to touch. Herself. Him. She wasn't sure which. And that's what scared her.

Because she could close her eyes and she could see it. She could see that long, curved part of him, she could see it disappearing into her own body, again and again. She could see his eyes as he stared up at her. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hands learning the familiar paths of her body. Always familiar, because they were two sides of the same coin.

Her hands had been pressing against her closed eyes to try and drive out the image, but they inexplicably grew limp and fell. She curled on her side breathing slowly as she heard cloth hit tile, water displacing as the rush dwindled to a trickle, then a steady drip.

When she forced out the image of him inside her, there was still the memory of his voice, moaning her name as his seed painted her skin. The taste of his essence, the feel of it, like lines of hot oil branding her flesh.

Her name...

Her...

And the knowledge that something had happened. Something had _shifted_ the moment she hadn't turned her head.

And the dizzying realization that it hadn't been that big of a shift at all. That she may have already had one foot across that line, and all that had been left was one small step.

A step that she had taken tonight.

* * *

TBC...


	25. Incomplete

Incomplete

* * *

_Aki wants me._

She stared at the graceful fall of his hair as he bowed over the classifieds. Looking for a better job. Always looking for some way to make their life easier.

Their life.

Something about that sounded so inevitable.

_Aki wants me._

It kept coming back to that. Why couldn't she force it out of her mind?

Maybe because there was an inherent question to that statement, and she still refused to acknowledge it.

_How long has he felt this way?_

_How long has he been..._

_How long has he been seducing me in his dreams_, is what her mind whispered. But she couldn't concretely put that thought into words. Anytime she came close, she flashed on the sight of...She heard his voice saying her name with need and pain, and pleasure. She recalled how she lay in bed not long after, and...

His eyes suddenly flicked up from the paper, catching her so soundly in her staring that she actually started.

"What," he asked.

What was a safe answer?

"What 'what'?" she returned on auto-pilot, reaching once more for her juice, and trying to keep her hand from shaking.

Up went the eyebrow. He had such expressive eyes-how had he kept this from her for so long?

_No. Nononono_. She wasn't supposed to go there. Not now. Not while he was looking at her.

Not ever. Really.

But it was too late, she was already through that door. Now she had to try to figure out how to navigate this strange, new world.

This world that wasn't supposed to exist. But did.

He wasn't supposed to feel like that about her...

But no matter how much she spun it in her mind, she couldn't make the events line up differently, or lead to a different conclusion.

_Aki wants me._

She could feel herself flushing, but couldn't stop it. She had to say something, something before that window of what was within her character closed. He wouldn't understand this shift in her. Not yet. He wouldn't understand that she was a new person now.

She was still trying to get to know this new person living in her old skin.

_(Skin that has been branded by him...)_

She didn't want to say it, she didn't want to put this new knowledge into words. But every time she opened her mouth it was there on the tip of her tongue. A bitter-sweet taste that settled in her stomach like burning honey.

She stumbled out the first thing that came to mind. "Sleep well?"

And when she said 'mind', she meant it quite literally. There was a flinch around her eyes, one that she refused to allow him to see. But she had never been that good at acting, so she looked away instead. Got up and feigned washing out her juice glass, as if it was some all-important task, and she wasn't in the habit of leaving it in the sink for him to do later.

He watched her curiously, she could feel his eyes visually stalking her as she moved about the small kitchenette. How long had he been doing that? How long had his eyes followed her, tracing the outline of her body until he could see it all clearly in his subconscious?

Her nails scraped loudly against glass as her fingers reflexively clenched.

Why did she ask these questions, knowing that any answer would be destructive?

And not allowed.

"Great," he said slowly, in answer to her earlier question. But it was clear that he was just saying it because an answer was expected. He was too distracted with watching her curiously now. And she was distracted with his 'watching'.

She felt so self-conscious. It was a new sensation she wasn't sure she liked.

_Why do you want me?_

Again, her mind clarified that question, showing her images of what exactly he wanted. Or an approximation, as she wasn't sure she really knew.

She saw his hips push up, again and again, as he cried out for her, as he moved inside a dream of her.

She wanted to believe it was a dream, too...But she had _smelled_ of him. When she woke up this morning, her skin had been tight with dried fluid in several places, and the faint scent of sex still clung to her lips.

In the bathroom, she had stared at herself with too wide eyes, seeing the still damp bathtub behind her, and imaging him soaking in it the night before. Rinsing the sticky sweat from his thighs, sliding his fingers thoughtfully slow over his flesh as he remembered his dream.

And then she was mentally back beside his futon in the dark, hearing him breathe her name as his essence splattered across her skin.

_It still burned._

"Aya..."

Her eyes widened, her shoulder twitching as she awakened to the truth of where she was. Standing in their small-space that wished it was a kitchen, and staring sightlessly at her brother's crotch, while she remembered how it had looked bare, framed by his own fingers.

_Aya! Stop thinking about it. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!_

Why couldn't she seem to catch her breath?

He came around the small table now, an open, concerned look on his face, and she couldn't seem to move. She felt trapped, but safe. She never feared Aki, it just wasn't possible, but something grabbed her limbs, and kept her squeezed in place.

Hands, on her shoulders. How come she had never noticed how he touched her before? Or that he was always touching her? His hands were gentle, but steady, warm against her skin. His thumbs caressed almost imperceptibly across the pulse in her throat.

_Even now, you want me. Don't you, Aki?_

He dipped down, just that inch to bring them eye-level. "Are you okay?"

She wasn't okay. She still felt as if she was moving through honey. As she was still misplaced from her body. Or maybe this whole unfamiliar world.

_I'm not fine. I don't know how to deal with your feelings._

"I'm fine."

_I'm scared._

He frowned, his fingers tightening slightly on her skin as some thought flitted across his eyes. "You don't look fine." He shook his head. "I'm worried, Aya. You look sick."

"I'm fine," she reiterated weakly. What else could she say?

"You're flushed," he countered.

"You're irritating me," she returned, a touch of her usual tone coming without warning back into her voice. What did that mean?

He smiled slightly, not just with his mouth, but with his eyes. And that thumb moved again, drawing a slow, broken circle around her beating heart.

"That's more like you," he answered sweetly, then he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead.

She froze, her eyes widening again where he couldn't see. Almost on their own, her hands lifted, fingers curling loosely in the cloth of his shirt. They neither pushed nor pulled, but rested there, seemingly waiting for direction.

A warm, moist breath across her scalp, almost a sigh, and then he drew back, tilting his head again as if to consider her. "You're a little hot, but I don't think you have a fever. Come, sit down," he ushered her firmly to the small table, to his vacated chair, and pushed her into it. Then he was back at the fridge, shifting through their sparse rations determinedly, until he emerged with the few eggs they had left, and a small container of fruit salad she had planned on having for lunch on her break. He set the fruit salad before her and grabbed a clean fork.

"Aki," she complained, forgetting momentarily her unease. "I'm saving that for work."

"You're not going today," he said, firmly. Digging through their few second-hand pans, and clanking them together just loud enough to discourage any protest.

Never one to be dissuaded, "Aki! I have to go! I'm still on probation!" She was on her feet again, fists clenched at her sides.

"Aya..." He put down the saucepan and turned back to her with her name on his lips. It echoed through her head again, suddenly severing her vocal cords, and pulling the plug to drain away every last thought in her mind.

She blinked at him, not understanding the tangled swirl of emotions in her gut. Or why it was always the sound of his voice that swirled them around into a sudden monsoon.

She didn't even have to think 'He wants me' this time...She _felt_ it.

"Sit down."

"Don't order me around," she snapped back reflexively.

Frowning at her, he placed the pan on the unlit burner, and took two sharp steps forward.

She backed up a quick, unconscious step, and fell right back into the chair.

Scowling when the lift of his eyebrow mocked her. The fact that she kept seamlessly shifting back into habitual behaviour gave her hope.

She _wanted_ to move past this, she just wasn't sure how.

He placed his hand on the table and stood before her, his other hand coming to rest on his hip. She stared at his hand on the table and tried to ignore the fact that he had moved to physically trap her again. Not so obviously. But he had firmly placed himself in her path.

"You are staying home today. You clearly don't feel well."

She opened her mouth to protest again, but he shifted. Just his hip, just a touch, but the nonverbal signal was clear. He was not going to back down.

Her eyes flicked, against her will, to his covered groin. Just as quickly she looked away, her gaze flitting nervously around the room.

How come she couldn't ignore that part of him anymore?

It was like it hadn't come into existence until last night. Like he had just been Aki. And now he was a boy. He was Aki and he was a boy, and she didn't know how to reconcile those two parts of him.

A touch on her hair, gentle and fleeting. She jerked her head back around, staring up at him with her breath lodged somewhere in the back of her throat.

"Aya, they will understand. I'll talk to them. You'll see." That hand that rested on her hair, dropped down to his side, the fingers curved and open. It was the same hand that he had...

She swallowed hard, her mouth inexplicably dry. She wished she hadn't poured her juice out. Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, he retrieved her glass and filled it the brim with orange juice.

"Here, drink some more juice. It will help you feel better."

How much had he done in her bitter-sweet ignorance? How much had he gotten away with because she simply could not have seen from this angle before? How many touches, kisses, caresses-all under the guise of innocence? Her fingers touched his when she took the glass, she couldn't avoid it. But she didn't miss how his moved quickly to prolong the contact, how his index finger lifted slightly so that just the edge of it slid sensually between her own fingers.

She shuddered, she couldn't seem to stop it. She stared down into the murky depths of her juice and wondered how many times he had played this game with her.

Curious, this new glass she was seeing the world through. How do you deal with this? How?

_Better yet, why? Why does he want me?_

She wasn't particularly self-conscious, but what could have happened to make him see her this way?

Has he always...

"Fascinating," he commented dryly, startling her once again. She looked up at him with those same wide eyes that she had been showing all morning, not understanding why she couldn't seem to keep her mind together.

"Aya," he sighed with slight exasperation, "You're supposed to _drink_ the juice."

"Quit hovering over me," she shot back in return, her shoulders tense in his shadow. _I can't think when you do that_...

"Well sorry," he exclaimed, taking a full, exaggerated step back away from her. Then he gave her that look again. That look full of concern and warmth, that said: _I know something's off_.

She wanted to laugh, and cry.

_We can't talk about this, Aki...We can't **find a way**. Not through this. You want me. You...love me?_

_I'm so lost_, she thought.

_I'm so lost.

* * *

TBC..._


	26. Appearance

Appearance

* * *

So off he went to work, and here she was. It didn't quite seem fair, this forced idleness when she so didn't want to have any time to herself to think. Not thinking was the only way she knew how to combat this alien idea. But even that failed her after awhile.

She leaned her hands and forehead against the now closed door, saw acres of time stretched out before her with no end in sight.

It was too difficult to look around their apartment and see possibilities, so she just stayed against the door with her eyes tightly closed.

But in some ways that was worse. If she let herself relax, even a fraction, she was right back where this began.

Where this began...where _did_ it begin? How long had it been in motion? Days? Weeks? _Years_?

_Last year we were swimming, and my top came undone..._

_The electricity went out that one night when mom and dad were out, and I was so scared that I begged him to let me sleep in his bed..._

_We...we used to take baths together when we were kids!_

Her brow furrowed as a thousand memories crowded into her mind, everything with a new slant, a new meaning.

_We were swimming at the beach, and he swam under me, wrapping his arms around my legs and knocking me back into the water..._

They watched a movie when their parents were visiting 'family', and she fell asleep with her legs draped over his lap...

She leaned her back against his shoulder on the bus, taking more than her half of the seat so she could prop her notebook up on her knees and quickly finish her homework that was due first period...

She...she...

Weren't these things that sisters did? Where did it change? Why did he see her this way? Why?

_She was there again_, but this time she was on her knees above him, the fall of her skirt hiding-

_No_!

She shook her head furiously, shoving away from the door and deeper into the room.

_No! I won't see that! I won't!_

She nearly stumbled over the futon, surprised a moment to see it still in such disarray. It wasn't like Aki to leave the bed unmade.

_It was supposed to be my bed. I was supposed to sleep there last night..._

Would things have gone differently had she behaved herself for once? If she hadn't bent their own rules and forced him out of his turn?

_No, Aki would still feel the same way, I just wouldn't know about it now._

Was that better? Or worse?

...

He left it unmade on purpose, she realized. Because it was her turn to make the futon. She lifted her head and indeed, the bed was made.

Funny how it looked so...perfect and normal. She slowly sat herself down on the futon, drew her knees up to her chest and...just breathed. She leaned her chin on her knees and stared sightlessly at the bed.

How many times had he sat right here and done the same thing?

How many times has he...

She flinched, ducking her head suddenly to hide her face in her knees.

_Nononononono_...

She rocked slightly, needing to move, needing to not be still.

An image was trying to form in her mind...

She slapped her hands over her ears, fisting them in her hair and pulling slightly.

_Nonononono_!

She pulled harder.

_Aki...Aki wants..._

_No_!

_My brother wants..._

"_NO_!" The cry reverberated up her throat, she couldn't seem to keep it in anymore. And with it came more. Broken, hiccupping sobs, tears that stung her eyes.

_It's wrong...It's wrong..._

A weak, little girl's voice...

She slid sideways, curling up across the futon and dragging the tangled covers up over her face.

( ) *

She wept, minutes or hours. She didn't know. She lay limply across the futon, on her side while her fingers idly traced a crease in the blanket. She was lying backwards, with her feet under his pillow, but there wasn't enough in her at the moment to care. She was numb, calm, so, so tired.

In a few moments her eyes closed slowly, and with a soft breath she was asleep.

* * *

TBC...


	27. Inside

Inside

* * *

Music and colour.

Aya was in a familiar bathroom, standing before a familiar mirror, looking into a face that was not her own. Ceres was glaring at her, furious and angry, but there were tear-trails from her eyes.

Aya raised her own hand to her face and realized she was crying.

"Why?"

"I told you," Ceres said, but did not answer her question. What was she asking? What did Ceres tell her? She didn't _understand_.

"He can't be trusted."

_Who_?

Water ran in the sink, a small whirlpool that drained away just as quickly as it filled up. Aya blinked at it, then reached out to turn it off. Her fingers touched cold, smooth metal, and the door behind her opened.

Distant revelry, distant music. It was their birthday and they were putting sixteen candles on the cake.

_It's wrong..._

There were only supposed to be _fifteen_ candles.

She hoped Aki wouldn't notice. He was _really_ good at math.

Ceres gave her a disappointed look, then slowly stepped aside. The mirror reflected the bathroom, and the open door. But it didn't show her...Where was she?

Keitou stepped into the doorway.

Aya gasped, turned. Her hands came up, ready to push or fight.

But it wasn't Keitou in the doorway, it was Aki. He was in the shorts he always wore to bed, and the door was closed behind him.

Aya relaxed, tilting her head at him curiously. "I thought you were somebody else."

"I was," he said seriously. And she didn't understand, but it didn't seem to matter. There was silence, such silence. Water dripped from the faucet behind her, and it seemed to fill the whole bathroom.

"We're going to miss the party," she said brightly, turning back to the sink. She had forgotten to wash her hands.

"The party's already over." His voice was in her ear, a strange whisper, full of pain and need. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, and felt such relief. She was back, her image reflected in the silver glass.

But...where was Aki? She couldn't see him...

Breath, on her hair. The bathroom light dimmed and brightened. She couldn't find him, did he leave with everybody else? Where was he?

"Here." Hands, on her hips, gentle pressure, gentle touches. They slid up, parting her lips and deepening her breath. They cupped her breasts, a perfect cradle, a perfect fit. "I'm here."

He wasn't in the mirror. She looked down and saw her own hands resting on her breasts. The door closed behind her.

"What are you doing, Aya?"

Aya bit her lip, her eyebrows furrowing as she flexed her hands, making absolutely sure that they were her own. "I thought they were yours..." A puzzled answer. She was so confused.

"They are," he said, and hands joined hers, slid over hers, intertwining fingers and warmth. He kneaded her breasts through her own hands, rubbing and touching, and moaning softly when the nipples peaked against her own palms.

Could he feel that? Could he feel what she felt?

"I always feel what you feel," and his left hand slid down, taking hers with it. His fingers curved over hers, guiding hers down familiar paths. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and opened her eyes, just barely peeking from lashes that seemed far too heavy.

"Do you see," he asked, a breath against her temple, but he still wasn't there. The mirror only reflected her.

A slight pressure and the heel of her palm pressed gently between her legs. He rubbed slowly back and forth, and she gasped, curving her fingers instinctively around her sex and pressing harder. She shook.

_Don't_...she thought, but the word was all alone in her head, being tossed and battered on a sea of pure sensation. She couldn't make herself pay attention to it. She didn't even want to. Not if it meant giving up this feeling...

Her panties were gone now, and fingers slipped against hot, wet flesh. She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly as he guided her fingers down to her entrance, curving his middle and ring finger against hers and pushing in. She followed blindly, sliding her fingers in, deeper and deeper as he slowly drew his fingertips back, rubbing them over the soft skin between her knuckles. With a whisper she didn't understand, he bent his wrist and forced her penetration to its fullest. Then he gently eased back, then did it again. And again.

"Like that," he whispered, kissing her neck. "Think of me."

Tears stung her eyes, but she wasn't in pain. Why was she crying?

"Do you think of me?"

She was so hot, so so hot. But it felt amazing. And comforting. And somehow...lonely. His hand rested sweetly over hers, palm against wrist, fingertips on knuckles. He rubbed little circles that seemed somehow more intimate then the gentle thrusting of her own fingers.

"I think of you," he whispered, turning his face into her hair. She couldn't see it, but she could still feel it. In the mirror she touched herself, in reality she touched herself, but she could feel him. Guiding her, touching her, showing her the way.

"Oh!" she gasped, feeling as if she was no longer in control of her mouth. "Close! I'm going to-"

_Go crazy. Wake up. Realize that this is wr-!_

He suddenly slid his fingers down, following the path of her own and thrust them deep inside her.

She shrieked, struggling wildly as she climaxed without warning. She ripped her hands free of his, clawing back at his arms as his fingers continued to push in and out of her. Her entrance clenching and spilling liquid, filling her ears with the primal sound of flesh slapping against wet flesh.

_Stop_, she thought, _Stop! I can't take anymore_!

A deep, hard push, and he curled his two fingers up inside her. Her legs abruptly went limp, her spine bowing as she cried out. He caught her to him, rocked her gently as his wet fingers combed through her hair.

"Don't cry, Aya..."

He turned her to him, and they went tumbling across a familiar bed, rolling like children at play. He pushed her over onto her back and she laughed, pulling him with her and dragging him into another turn. It still ended the same, as when she pulled, he pushed, and she found herself on her back once more.

He stared down at her with hot eyes, his hands clenched in the sheets to either side of her shoulders. Her eyes widened as she realized they were both naked, and beyond the door she could hear distant revelry. And water.

But here, in this familiar bed, there was only silence and breath.

"Party's over," he whispered, and she could feel her naked thighs flex against his hips, skin sliding against smooth, warm skin. He was pressed so close to her, she could feel the gentle weight of him resting in the hollow of her entrance. The light shift of him each time they breathed.

She stared up into eyes so like her own, but not the same. There was some tiny shift, some dilution of colour that made them different. The force of desire behind them made them different.

Her breaths sped up, coming harder and harder. Something was changing here. Something was coming. She began to shake.

"You're mine."

And she reacted, her whole body jerking once.

_No_...

He shifted his hips, pressing slowly against her. She couldn't help but close her eyes, couldn't help but _feel_. He was pressed against her most intimate door, poised to take that final step in.

"_Mine_."

She shoved at him wildly suddenly, like an animal in a trap. "No! NO! Don't come inside!"

"I'm already inside." And with that he did once slow push, and her body yielded easily, taking him all the way in. Her spine bowed as her eyes widened, her hands scrabbled across the bed looking for something to hold onto, something to pull her up out of this insanity.

"Hold onto me," he whispered, slowly pushing deeper into her. "Hold onto me."

* * *

TBC...


	28. Inherent

Inherent

* * *

One second she was sprawled limply across a past bed as her twin brother came inside her, and the next she was tangled in a damp sheet as that same twin brother's hands restrained her desperately.

"Aya! Aya, are you alright?"

Breathless, she parted her lips and stared up at him, her body still shaking, her thighs uncomfortably wet.

It was a dream.

...It _was_ a dream, right?

His hands burned on her, his hold strong and tight with fear. She stared into his wide eyes in the dim room, watching them fill with relief, and worry.

"Aya, are you okay?"

She wanted to laugh, so instead she cried. She hung her head and fell right into deep, wracking sobs.

Again, in what was becoming a familiar gesture, he lunged forward, gathering her close in his arms and rocking her slightly.

"Shhh," he soothed desperately, lips moving in her hair, "It was a dream, Aya. Shh, just a dream..."

She clutched at his sleeves, his shoulders, her eyes stinging and a headache throbbing to life at the back of her skull. Because it was a dream, but she knew it wasn't a dream. Because she didn't know how to forget what she knew, knew she had to-because she couldn't lose him. Not now. Not ever.

Because she wondered...

Wondered if Ceres had _known_. If this was what she had been warning her about...

"Aya..." a soft, hesitant question, as if he wasn't sure that he even wanted to ask. "What happened?"

_You seduced me, Aki. And I let you. it was all a dream, but I still...let you._

The urge to laugh was bubbling up again. Her fingers clenched in his shirt, wanting to somehow crawl into him and just...not _be_ anymore.

She didn't really think she could talk, she didn't think her voice would work, but it did. With her forehead pressed against his shoulder, and her eyes staring wet and sightlessly, she spoke. "He was taking you away from me."

It just wasn't the whole truth.

"Who," he whispered, hands tightening, drawing her closer.

_You_.

"I don't know," she breathed, closing her eyes in pain.

"Aya," he pushed her back, just enough to wipe away her tears with the edge of his sleeve. "No one is going to take me away. I am never going to leave you."

Relief, so much relief, because she never wanted to live in a world without him. But unease, too. Because she could hear the deeper meaning to his words now. The inherent possibility. The inherent pledge.

She could feel his hands on her, gentle and firm, restrained hope, subtle possession. She could feel them heating on her skin like brands.

But she still couldn't push him away.

* * *

TBC...


	29. Unbalanced

Unbalanced

* * *

She listened to the tap run in the bathroom as she curled up in the futon, feigning sleep. She still didn't know how to face him, so for once she was allowing herself to be a coward. Maybe the way would come to her in the night, but she didn't hold faith in it.

Her crying had emptied her out, and all that was left was the hollow ring of disbelief that echoed inside her. She just didn't believe that this was happening. That it had been happening. How had they even gotten here?

The door opened, and she flinched in her feigned sleep. She knew he was standing there in his shorts, and she thought it silly that she should even care. Not after having seen him naked. Not after having tasted...But she didn't want to see, didn't want to remember how those shorts had looked straining against his swollen flesh, or how very flushed and fair his skin had looked against the shadowed blue.

Or how that cloth had felt, hot and wet beneathe her fingers.

Her eyes squeezed down tighter, arms and legs drawing up closer to her body.

There was so much silence, what was he doing?

_He's watching me..._

A shiver slid across the small of her back, trying to deepen her breath, but she wouldn't let it. Still she couldn't push out the feeling of eyes moving over her body with the weight of a hand.

A sigh, and it hurt her, because she could hear the pain in it, the frustration. It squeezed tears into her throat, but she swallowed them back down, feeling the dull ache in her eyes that said she just couldn't cry anymore.

How much easier would things be if she could hate him? If she didn't love him? But there was no reality where that could ever happen, so she was left with the knowledge that somehow...somehow she _had_ to move past this. _They_ had to move past this. Because there was no alternative where she could ever push him from her life. Not her Aniki. Not just because she needed him now, needed him to continue in this half-existence...But because he was her best friend, her eye of the storm. She had come to rely so much on him, and he on her, that she just couldn't imagine trying to do any of this without him.

No secret, no matter how deep or dark, could ever make her turn her back on him. And while this understanding should have given her peace, perspective, should have given her the tools and will to overcome...all it did was fill her with fear.

Because...it spoke of a willingness to compromise.

She just wasn't sure how far that compromise would take her. How deep into the grey area she was willing to go to keep this from tearing them apart.

And...and things around her were shifting, assimilating this new knowledge and seeing things in this new way.

Taking her down new paths, though she had no idea where they may lead.

Near-silent steps in the darkened room. He was moving closer, and she found her body winding tighter and tighter. Dreading confrontation. Interaction. Something...

"Aya?" A soft call, it reminded her of last night, how she had stole the bed and feigned sleep. How his voice had been soft and hesitant. How his fingers had touched her ankle with that same hesitance. And understanding came again when she didn't want it. How he had allowed himself to be convinced that she was asleep. How he had touched her, not with the goal of surprising her into giving up her game, but...just to touch her. Because he wanted to. Because she would never know any different.

Something poisonous whispered through her mind, but she couldn't swallow it down. Aki would _never_ hurt her. Not even in her ignorance. But still, she pretended to be asleep, held her breath in wait of his next actions.

She didn't believe it possible, but she had to know for certain all the same.

Even though she knew that knowing could quite possibly destroy her.

Time passed in slow moments. She could hardly stand it. Every second she spent in this new world she felt like she was going to go flying apart. But she held herself still, waiting to see which way the rock would fall.

"Aya?" barely a whisper, something that said he didn't really want her to wake up, but he did want to assuage his guilt by telling himself that he had at least tried.

She concentrated on pacing her breaths, making sure they were slow and even, and didn't start piling up with panic in her throat. Her heart was beating rapidly within her breast, and she couldn't seem to get it to slow. It pounded in her head, it seemed loud enough to fill the whole room.

A hesitant touch on her hair, just a small, tickling brush. Fingers slid unhurriedly down a lock that fell innocently across her shoulder. Then those fingers were on her shoulder, warm and resting. Slowly he curved his hand around her arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth as if marveling at the texture of her skin. His hand caressed steadily down her arm, then back up, the edge of his thumb just barely brushing against the underside of her breast.

She couldn't help the way her skin seemed to tighten, the nipple hardening and pressing though the thin cloth of her nightshirt. It was purely reaction, and she knew that. That didn't explain why part of her was holding her breath, why there was this image shoved far back in her mind of...

Of something-No! She wouldn't let herself look at it!

His hand was still now, not full of tension, but resting calmly.

She felt the scratch of cloth against her breast, the cold air that was almost painful. She wondered if he saw it, too...

Then his hand was back on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Aya, wake up."

She couldn't do it. She couldn't face him right now. Not in the dark, not with his hand on her. She just couldn't imagine looking at him in that moment without giving herself away. She lay still, letting herself shift limply under his hand.

"Aya, come on. I'm giving you the bed this time." A brighter voice, as if that would make her leap up and scramble for the elevated piece of furniture. She honestly couldn't make herself move. How strange, when before she could barely hold herself still. She wanted to fall asleep and quite possibly wake up two days ago. She wanted to be the Aya of two days ago.

"Aya," that sigh again. He stopped shaking her. She nearly arched like a scalded cat when his hands suddenly slid under her, gently lifting her up. She couldn't help but go rigid in his hold.

"It's okay," he whispered soothingly, clearly believing that she was just then waking up. "Go back to sleep, I'm just moving you to the bed..."

She wound her arms tightly around his neck, the move made seeming in pure reflex as he got up, his arms straining slightly, but strong and steady as he cradled her.

She turned her face into his shoulder, knowing that she was too close to him in that moment to have her head lifted.

"Why," she whispered, slightly choked from adrenaline as her heart seemed to have crawled into her throat.

He couldn't really shrug while holding her, but it was in his voice. "You prefer the bed. And I want you to get well." He gently laid her on the bed, sliding his hands out from under her, and not meaning to, but causing a shudder to shake her breath.

She found herself clinging inexplicably to his neck still, nearly unbalancing him when he tried to draw back. He looked at her curiously, reaching up gently and disengaging her hands. He placed them on her stomach, smiling at her with that same slight puzzlement.

Why had she done that? She wanted comfort. And she wanted to hide. And she wanted to cry when she realized how worried he was about her.

"I'm okay," she whispered, and now the smile was gone, replaced by a worried frown. This was why she had wanted to be _asleep_. There were no words that she could possibly say that he wouldn't see through.

"Aya, what is it?" He settled on the edge of the narrow bed, his hip next to hers, brushing slightly against it when she took a deep breath. She took a deep breath, wondering if he even noticed that he did these things. That he always moved to touch her whenever she was close enough. She didn't think he even realized half the time.

A hand over her hands as they rested on her stomach. She started, not remembering much about her dream, but recalling the distinct image of their hands entwined, of his palms hot against her knuckles. Her skin felt as if it was jumping slightly under his.

"Aya, come on. Talk to me," he pleaded gently.

She looked at him, biting her lip slowly then releasing it. She looked down at their hands. "Do you...Do you ever wonder if we did the right thing?"

* * *

TBC...


	30. Tie

Tie

* * *

"Do you ever wonder if we did the right thing?" Where had that question come from?

His hand flexed slightly over hers. There was a moment of silence but it didn't last near as long as she thought it would. "No."

She blinked, her eyes wanting so bad to look at him again. "Never?"

"I never wonder, because I _know_. This is the best we could have done with what we had."

_How...how can he be so certain_?

"What if we were supposed to stay?"

"What is this 'supposed to'?" he teased gently. "I didn't know you believed in fate, Aya."

_With Ceres and...everything...how can I not_?

"The thing about fate," he said more seriously, dragging her attention back to him, "Is that it's...fate."

Okay, even with all her distress she still couldn't help but give him her 'you-don't-say' look.

He rolled his eyes, "What I mean is-fate is fate, you know. If something is meant to be, it _will_ be. Regardless of what we say or do. If we were meant to stay, then we would be there right now."

She looked up at the ceiling, at the sticker-stars that were still glowing strongly "So, is _this_ fate?" An empty whisper, barely passing her lips.

He glanced at her sharply at that, a chase of unease going across his eyes that he quickly hid. She wouldn't have noticed that before, would she? How blind and stupid she was.

"I'm not sure I believe in fate," he said quietly, drawing his hand back from hers to fold loosely over his own knee. "At least, not to that degree. I don't think any one thing controls our every step. I think it's more a series of choices, and we decide from moment to moment."

Somehow, that explanation hurt more than it comforted. There was an easy scapegoat in the idea of fate. "What if it's choice and fate?"

"Choice and fate," he echoed curiously.

"Yes. Like...we all have more than one path fated to us, and it's only our choices that decide which one we follow."

"Well, if that were the case, then you could still argue that it's all fate. Sometimes I think the idea of 'fate' is just another way for people to not take responsibility for their own actions."

A deep breath as he just answered some question she had inside her. She just wasn't sure which, or if it had been the answer she was seeking.

"But don't you think...that some things aren't our choice? Like we end up going down paths that _we_ would never consciously choose?"

_This is not a path I would choose...Please, I want to blame something for this. I don't want to believe that you would do this on purpose._

He looked amused suddenly, and very...adoring. It startled her into wanting to edge away from him. "You know, you're really clever sometimes, Aya."

She blushed in the dark; she couldn't seem to help it. _Please don't compliment me._

"Oi, I'm not stupid, you kn-"

"But you're right," he spoke right over her with a little grin. "Sometimes we end up on paths we don't choose for ourselves, but is that fate? Or are we just reacting to the choices that others have made?" he shook his head. "I don't know."

Then that serious look. He looked like he wanted to reach and touch her again. Did he keep touching her because he loved her? Or because he...wanted her? Was there even a line between the two in his mind anymore?

She used to love this, the little touches, the soft words. But now...now she just didn't know. Was it okay to love this? To be flattered? Comforted? Was it okay for her to think that she still wanted him to touch her, no matter what intentions there were behind his eyes?

He gave in; she saw it that moment before he slowly lifted his hand once more. He placed it gently down over her hands again, leaning forward slightly to make sure he had her attention. Not that he had ever lost it. "Is this what's been bothering you, Aya? Are you having second thoughts?"

Was she? Did she really believe that leaving hadn't been for the best? The fact that she had never even entertained that idea before was answer enough. But...it was an explanation for her distress that he had come up with himself...meaning he probably wouldn't see through it to the real problem if she meekly agreed.

He needed an answer, because without one she knew he wouldn't leave her alone. Was this the best way? Was it better to mask the truth and hope someday that she will learn to deal with it?

"Yes. Is this really okay? Aki, what if we were supposed to stay?"

She was glad he didn't answer out-right, this was a serious question, and one she hadn't even realized she needed answered. Because, though she still believed that this was the right path...she couldn't help but wonder. What if? What would have happened had they stayed? Would things have been better?

His eyes grew hazy with thought, as his finger began absently tracing the delicate definition of bones in her hand. She watched the thoughtless patterns he drew and realized that even this wasn't an innocent caress. Wasn't the actions of the side of him that was always going to be her far-too-serious brother.

She quickly shied away from such thoughts, recognizing certain implications that she knew she was not ready to deal with yet.

She wanted to move past this, because she felt she had to. But she wondered if there wasn't a danger in acceptance...In coming to terms with the fact that he felt _this way_, but she still loved him.

How was there even a question, though? He was Aki, and no matter what he did or thought-how could she not love him?

Reconciling these emotions was proving to be so very difficult. There were ends that should never meet, but she found herself trying to forcefully tie them together, anyway.

"Aya," he spoke softly, and she realized that she had heard this voice before. Where had she heard it? "Try to think of it this way. If we weren't meant to be here, we wouldn't be. That's how fate works. If it _really_ exists, then it's not something we can escape."

There was something so very final about that statement. _Not something we can escape. Inescapable. Is that how you feel, Aki_...She half-lifted her eyes to him, noticing the solemn down-tilt to his chin.

_Am I inescapable_?

It hurt so much for her to think that way. She never wanted him to hurt, or be his burden.

But at the same time, it flaked away a thin layer of her unease, and allowed her to relax some. If it was something he hadn't consciously chosen, if he hadn't meant for this to happen-How could she possibly blame him?

She couldn't. She grasped onto this decision with both hands, wanting to hold close any reason she could find to not have to force him away.

_If it's not his fault..._

_If it's not his fault..._

_Then I could never blame him for this_.

"Do you really believe that?" _If you do, I will._

He seemed to hear the inherent pleading in her voice, the desperate need for her to latch onto...something. He lifted his head slowly, turning it just as slowly, and meeting her eyes head-on.

She blinked once, her head twitching once to the left as if something within her desperately wanted to look away. But she didn't. She couldn't. She could not dishonour the seriousness of his eyes by not meeting them directly.

"Yes, I really believe that. And if you need me to, I will believe enough for the both of us. I'm still not completely convinced in the existence of fate, but I _do_ believe in choices, and I _know_ we made the right choice here. Don't doubt, Aya. I know things are hard right now, and unfair, but I also know that you are stronger than all of this. That this isn't forever. I have to believe this."

_Aki_...She slid her hand out from under his, but instead of retreating as she probably should have, she instead cupped her hand over his hand, squeezing slightly.

"If you believe, then so will I."

His eyes gentled, the fierceness melting away in the heat of emotions far warmer. He turned his hand under hers, curving his fingers around her fingers. "Aya..."

"After all," she continued, not being able to stand so much seriousness for so long, and also really, really wanting him to stop looking at her as if...as if...as if he were _in love_, or something. "If my far-too-serious and cynical brother can believe, then this should be a piece of cake for me."

It didn't work. The look didn't go away. It only deepened somehow, brightened with a fondness that was so very familiar.

A subtle panic began to flutter behind her breastbone, bringing to her wavering attention that he was sitting next to her on the narrow bed, his outer-thigh a warm line against her hip. His hand curved solidly around hers on her stomach. The sound of their breathing, perfectly matched and paced in the darkness.

Her heart slowly began to beat faster, her hand involuntarily flexing in his hold, and coming across as a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back, the curve of his mouth evening to something more...indulgent. It was hard to tell in the dimness, but it seemed as if there was almost...a _flush_ to his cheeks.

She blinked, looked away from him, looked back. Why wasn't he saying anything?

He blinked, too, but the motion was only half-done as his long, gold lashes rested low over his eyes. His hold on her hand tightened slightly, and he leaned steadily forward.

No words or emotion filled her mind as she froze in place, giving him wide, wide eyes.

He tilted his head up and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, his free-hand braced at her shoulder, and a strange image suddenly chased across her mind.

(_He stared down at her with hot eyes, his hands clenched in the sheets to either side of her shoulders..._)

A sharp breath, she couldn't help it. _That didn't happen_, she thought wildly. _That would never happen_!

Her breath hit his neck, and she was close enough to feel the shudder go through him, a quiver moving his lips against her forehead.

He drew back smoothly, but she noticed the sudden quickness to it, the sudden mask of innocence that fell down and covered the usual sharp force of personality behind those blue eyes. The mask extended to his mouth as he smiled gently, squeezing her hand one last time. "Get some sleep, Aya," he whispered, by way of retreat and good night.

He got up, turning just so as he headed back to the futon. But she still saw the strong line of his erection, pressed taut against the thin cloth of his shorts.

She turned her head back to the ceiling, and watched blankly as one by one the stars began to blink out.

( ) *

She lay in the dark and listened to the near-silent shift of sheets. Of hushed quick breaths.

He made a tiny, pained noise in his throat when he finally finished, and she closed her eyes down-tight, trying to physically force the sound right back out of her head.

But forcing the sound away, only seemed to bring the image closer.

She bit her lip hard, silent tears matting her eyelashes. On the tip of her tongue...there was the taste of salt.

* * *

TBC...


	31. Push

Push

* * *

The silhouette leaning against the window on the other side of the door was unmistakable. The tall, slender frame. The strong, graceful curve of shoulder. _The impatiently tapping fingers._

Aya froze in step, her heart seemingly slamming into her lungs and knocking the breath from her. She hesitated on the other side of the door, as her thoughts spun in a sudden storm around her.

Some sense of self-preservation told her to _forget_. Forget what she now knew. To pretend until the act became truth.

And never, _ever_, let the thought grow in her mind. But even that idea she pushed away, not willing to even admit that such a thought could take root in her mind.

She hesitated too long, and he lifted his head, his eyes turning to catch hers. Even through the filter of glass she started.

_Aki_...Her lips formed the word, but she wasn't sure why, her hand tightened on the strap of her purse.

Up went the eyebrow, as if to say, 'are you coming or what?'. She forced a quick smile of acquiesce to her lips, then turned to her purse, pretending as if she was zipping it up. That done, she let it fall limply to her side, took a deep breath, and forced her feet to move.

"You don't have to wait for me, you know."

He pursed his lips, pushing away from the window. "We've been over this, Aya" was his implacable response.

And she deflated, realizing he wasn't going to allow her to pick an argument with him today. As time wound on and she stewed in the knowledge that she now possessed, she found herself trying more and more to push his buttons, to push him out of his temper.

She wasn't sure what it meant, or why she was doing it. Why she felt the need to pick at him until she...Well. There was her answer. _Until she broke his act_.

As was the case with many answers, it only led to more, and bigger questions.

Why did she want to break his act?

She bit down hard on that thought, not even wanting to head down that mental path. There was no answer here that was going to be safe.

As always, when she realized that she was pushing, she quickly backed down. "You're right," She said, completely missing how they fell in step as they turned onto the sidewalk. And his eyes widening with slight surprise.

"Okay," he said, shaking his head, then he turned and looked at her with subtle tease. "Who exactly are you, and what have you done with my sister?"

There was an emphasis on 'my', but she wasn't sure what it meant. She was sure that she had heard it before.

"Mou! Aki, you're so mean," she pouted. She should've known better than to be so complacent. It never seemed to work for her.

He walked on, "What am I right about, exactly?"

She grumbled aloud, her eyes narrowing in feigned-aggravation. It was better to fall mindlessly into these acts, then to keep holding the 'truth' so steadfastly centre in her thoughts. Though sometimes she worried about crossing ignorantly over the line of tease.

"What was that," he asked sweetly, giving her his own look of manufactured innocence.

She sucked in her cheeks, crossing her arms low over her chest in a nonverbal signal of resistance. "You. Are. Right." Then she slowly dropped her arms with a sigh. "About us sticking together...I just think sometimes that...you must be getting tired of babysitting me..."

_Is this why you feel the way you do? Seeing me every minute of every day...has that somehow changed the way you see me? Has it made you see me this way?_

A sigh at her side, very quiet, and even slightly irritated. "I'm not 'babysitting' you, Aya. That's not how I mean it at all. I'm watching out for you, just like you're watching out for me. I'm sorry if you're feeling stifled. Or like a child, I don't mean it that way." He turned to her. "But you can see it, right? You can see why it's so important for us to stick together."

He seemed really adamant that she understand this. And she did, but she wondered if he even knew where the line was, or if he was only guessing, and kept crossing back and forth over it without even realizing.

She feared that in some ways, she was doing the same.

But she conjured a smile for his benefit, unease settling in her stomach as she turned it on him. "I understand," she answered. _I understand that you're not going to move on this subject, and every time I argue it with you, you only grow more set in your stubbornness_.

He relaxed, returning her smile marginally. They fell into a more comfortable stroll.

"Aya! Aya!"

Aya froze, the breath rattling from her as a familiar voice called her name. She looked at Aki with identical wide eyes as he looked at her. The same thought seemed to run through both their minds. Were they found? Should they run?

"Aya! Wait up! You left this in the backroom!"

The voice finally registered, but she didn't relax. She didn't really like Rei. He reminded her of somebody. Somebody that had tried to hurt her long ago.

Aki didn't relax either, but he turned slowly back when she did.

Rei was trotting down the very centre of the sidewalk, holding something in his hand. She realized it was her work i.d.

Without explanation, even to herself, she hurried away from Aki and intercepted Rei before he could reach them. She physically placed herself in his path, blocking Aki from view. Or maybe blocking Rei from Aki's view. Why did she feel so anxious all of a sudden?

Rei stood slumped a long moment, his right hand on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. Turning her head just slightly, Aya caught the distant image of Aki out of the corner of her eye. He was turned in profile, his shoulders slumped in a pose of indifference as his hands slid casually into his pants pockets. He turned his head to the path ahead, curiously not paying attention. And it confused her for a long moment. If he loved her _like that_, why was he not upset with seeing her talk to another boy?

_He's not seeing it_, something pointed out 'helpfully'. _He's purposefully not looking, not seeing_.

What did that mean?

Rei shot a quick glance at Aki, then turned back to Aya, straightening up to tower over her at least five inches. She wasn't sure she liked that. Aki was taller than her, sure, but he never made her feel as if she was standing in his shadow.

Rei was nice. And he was cute. So why couldn't she be interested in him? He was definitely interested in her.

"Thanks," she said brightly, holding out her hand and smiling at him when he placed the small tag in her palm. "I don't even remember taking it off, though," she put a fist gently, pointedly against her head. "I don't know where my mind's been lately."

_I really don't, and that's what scares me._

"Hey, no problem, I saw it when I was taking my break earlier. I meant to give it to you before you left, but I completely forgot."

"Ah, I understand. I'm glad you found it, though. I probably would've ended up tearing our apartment apart in the morning looking for it if you hadn't."

Why had she said it like that? She vaguely remembered Rei making the assumption that she was dating Aki the last time they had talked...so why had she worded her response in such a way that he would come to believe that? She didn't like him, was she trying to push him away? And couldn't she find a less volatile way to do it?

Whatever his motives, he instantly backed down, his smile lessening in brightness as he glanced again at Aki.

"Well, I'm glad I caught you before you got too far away. I'm still on shift though, so I better get back."

"Oh, okay," she said cheerfully, while her insides churned with both disdain and confusion. And a touch of relief. She waved as he trotted back to the café, tucking her i.d. in her purse so she wouldn't shove it in her pocket and likely forget about it when they got home. With a deep breath, she headed back up the sidewalk.

Aki was waiting for her right where she had left him, his stance still casual and indifferent, his gold bangs fallen over his eyes. They began walking again, at a steady pace that was no longer a stroll.

Aya frowned, never one to sit well in silence. Aki was being strangely quiet now, seemingly focused on the path ahead of him.

"That was Rei," she cautiously released out into that silence. "I work with him at the café." _And he was just returning my i.d. Say it, Aya. Say it._

_Why aren't you saying it?_

"Oh," he said casually, a slight smile curving his lips, though he still didn't look at her.

_He wants to say something._

"Okay," she sighed. "Is there something you want to say, Aki?"

His shoulders twitched. Several steps. More silence, and then, "Do you think it wise to get involved with someone right now?" That same casual tone, but now gently inquiring. His hands remained in his pockets as he walked.

She blinked, parting her lips, having not expected such a question. There was something else to it, an undertone to his carefully constructed indifference.

_In...involved? But I'm not, Aki..._

"Why," she asked instead, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to turn her eyes inward to her own murky thoughts. She had an idea that she knew where she was going with this, but she wondered if this was a path that she really wanted to take.

No, she didn't want to take it. But maybe she _needed_ to.

"Why?" a raspy surprise breaking his act, as if he couldn't quite believe she asked. "Do you really want to bring someone else into our life right now? As unstable as everything is?"

"No," she answered honestly, a subtle tension stiffening her shoulders. "But it isn't as serious as all that. We're not dating or anything."

_No, he thinks that you and I are. Do you think that way, too, Aki? Do you feel as if...we are together? Do you pretend? Do you even know_?

A shudder across her shoulder blades as she couldn't help but wonder how deep his possessiveness of her ran. She slid her arms mindlessly around her stomach, holding herself tight as something heavy and cold seemed to settle there, and burn.

A shift at her side, as Aki finally turned to her, the mask of indifference melting slightly from his eyes. "Are you okay," he asked quietly.

She looked at him, not knowing how to answer that, and not wanting to lie. "No," she whispered honestly.

He froze in place, turning full to her in absolute concern. "Aya, what's wrong?"

His hand was on her arm, just above her bent elbow. She was reminded of the night before, of the edge of his thumb brushing ignorantly against the side of her breast. His hold was solid but gentle. Insistent.

She turned to him without conscious thought. She looked at him through her lashes, painting everything with slivers of gold and shadow. "My stomach hurts a little."

And that was true, mostly. It didn't 'hurt' really, not in the sense of 'pain'. But it churned, turning and dipping with unfamiliar sensation. It burned in her throat.

He frowned, his thumb moving absently on her sleeve and wrinkling the cloth. "You told me you felt better this morning..."

"I did. I do. I think I'm just tired."

He didn't really believe her. She hadn't been that convincing. He sighed, sliding his arm around her without warning and drawing her softly against his side. "Come on, let's get you home."

Every touch, every word felt different now. She was so aware of everything. His scent wafted up to her, and she felt herself instinctively relaxing, letting him support her, lead her. She wanted to be rigid, uncomfortable in his half-embrace. But she also...didn't.

She turned her face slightly against his warm chest, and took slow, deep breaths.

* * *

TBC...


	32. Tangle

Tangle

* * *

Something warm and wet touched the inside of her ankle, hot hands cradling her calf. Her brows furrowed over her closed eyes, her face turning slightly into her hair.

"Mmm," she muttered, rubbing at her ankle with her toes. The feeling went away, but left a strange echo in its wake, as if her body was actually hollow.

The feeling returned moments later, a gentle pressure on her knee. Hot fingers slid up her thigh, to either side, cradling it like something precious. It was the fact that they weren't hindered by cloth that flashed her eyes open in sudden awareness.

In the dark there was a familiar silhouette, he was kneeling at her feet, and as she watched in surprise, he slowly leaned forward once more and drug the tip of his tongue up her knee.

His eyes were dark as they rolled up to her.

"No," she breathed. "Stop."

But he didn't. Dim light from the bathroom door painted his hair in a dark glow, it shined around his edges like the sun behind the moon, giving her just enough to see, but keeping most of him in shadow.

She thought she wanted to move...but she couldn't seem to. She thought..._push him away_, but her hands didn't move.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her, his fingers slid up another inch, and her thighs twitched involuntarily, squeezing slightly together at the knee. But she couldn't seem to move beyond that.

She was naked.

So was he.

Her breath was coming faster and faster, but at the same time, she was strangely calm. With both hands he gently pushed her knees apart, crawling up the bed to kneel between her legs. His hands creeped back up her thighs and she panted, knowing that she was completely bare to his eyes, and knowing also that she shouldn't be. Her fingers curled in the sheet under her, but no matter how she tried she couldn't seem to close her legs.

_He's going to...he's going to...and I can't stop him..._

His hands slid up further, and she took a hard breath in preparation but in mid-motion he suddenly altered his path, reaching up to grasp her breasts instead.

She still arched her spine up from the bed as her eyes opened wider in shock. Heat seemed to pulse, straight from his hands and down through her centre, she mewled, shaking her head back and forth and trying to force the sensation out.

"Aki, Aki, don't," she pleaded. _Don't make me feel this way_.

But he groaned at the sound of her voice, his lashes coming half-down over his eyes. He leaned forward, cupping his left hand around her breast and squeezing gently.

"Aki! No!"

His tongue licked once across her hardened nipple, and she jolted, a bolt of pleasure pulsing through her like electricity.

_No_...

Squeezing harder around her breast, he pointed his tongue and flicked it rapidly over her nipple, playing with the sensitive nub and causing her to cry out.

His right hand played with her other breast, the thumb rubbing gentle circles into her flesh. He slowly parted his lips, closing them gently over her. Her fingers clenched harder in the sheet as he rubbed his teeth against her, gently pulling her taut and squeezing helpless tears from her eyes.

"Aki..." she whimpered.

He moaned again, the sound vibrating in her very nerves. He pulled her deeper into his mouth, suddenly sucking hard and bobbing his head up and down. She yelped, her arms twitching with the need to wrap around his neck and drag him closer. But she didn't want to do this. _She didn't_.

He let her go with a wet plop, tickling lines of saliva cooling on her nipple, and only making the flesh there stretch tighter and harder. Almost painfully. His mouth was wet when he looked up at her, his lips swollen and red. He drug his thumbnail in a gentle scratch over her left nipple, and she jerked, her thighs squeezing together as she felt her body clench and relax.

"Please don't," she begged. "Please don't make me feel this way!"

He slowly lowered his head, keeping eye contact, and placed a chaste kiss between her breasts.

She made a sobbing sound in her throat, turning her head away. She feared closing her eyes. She feared the deepening of sensation. Why was this happening?

Strong, wet fingers on her chin. He turned her face back, and she didn't stop him. She couldn't even try. With slow determination he lowered his face and slowly licked across her mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips and twining it sensually with hers. His breath was sweet in her mouth, his taste like salt and skin, and something else. His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb marking gentle lines on her cheekbone. She felt her mouth relaxing under his, moving with his, and it was such a peculiar sensation because it wasn't something she decided. His other hand slid, slowly, sensually down her side, dragging nails over skin. Her hips arched against her will, pressing her closer to the hot line of his body. His hand came to rest on her knee, and he curved his fingers around it, dragging her leg up to press her inner-thigh against his hip. She followed like a puppet, opening her legs to him as he settled between.

She turned her mouth away with a gasp, but he followed blindly, caressing his lips over hers again and again. Sweet shocks, teasing pressure. His left hand slid up into her hair, twining and kneading, and sending tiny shivers across her shoulders.

"Aya," a slide across her lips. He drew back, and she couldn't help but meet his eyes. Her breath deepening, panting against his mouth.

_Don't look...Don't look..._

Who was she talking to?

He tilted his chin down and kissed her jaw, her throat. Bracing his hands in the sheets to either side of her, he slid down, skin dragging across skin, and she cried out, her whole body shuddering and her arms straining in their invisible restraints again.

He kissed her collarbone. Between her breasts.

She turned her face into her own hair, shifting her shoulders helplessly.

Her navel, his hands now on her legs, keeping them spread.

She whimpered, feeling her womb throb insistently, even as she tried to force the feeling away. _Don't feel this way! Don't! Don't! Don't!_ "Please!"

A shuddering breath against her most intimate of places, he slowly turned his head, laying a kiss on one thigh, and then the other. He breathed, hot and shallow against her skin for a long moment, and she closed her eyes, winding her hands into desperate fists.

"Aya...Aya?"

A tiny sound in her throat, part sob, part something else. _Why are you doing this to me, Aki?_

"Aya, look at me?" His voice was so rough, breathless. Sounding familiar and alien all at the same time. It seemed to deepen that ache in her, and she felt her body clench instinctively again, squeezing out a trickle of cooling moisture.

"Aya," he demanded when she continued to keep her eyes closed, and her toes inexplicably curled, her legs wanting to do the same, though she couldn't move them.

"Aya," a sweeter voice, a little boy's voice. Her eyes opened against her will, seeing him poised down the line of her body, his hands resting gently on either thigh, and his face hovering over her.

For a moment she couldn't understand this vision, then his face lowered and all she saw was a shock of gold hair pressed between her legs.

She arched off the bed, her stomach heaving as she keened, twisting desperately from side to side as he ran his tongue in circles around that hypersensitive bundle of nerves, pressing the flat of it right under and rubbing firmly.

Tears leaked from her eyes as soft wet sucking sounds filled the dark room. His hair tickled her skin, over her thighs, as her hot flesh pressed against his cheeks. He slowly hooked one arm under her left leg, bringing it up and over his shoulder and pulling her further apart.

As he did with her breast, he slowly parted his lips against her sex, and pulled the nub into his mouth, holding it steady and applying just the right amount of pressure as his tongue flicked over the very tip rapidly.

She was sitting up on the bed, her body curled around him as her breath slammed from her in near sobs. She stretched her hands across his back, his shoulders. She grabbed his hair and pulled, pushing him harder against her, while at the same time trying to thoughtlessly struggle away.

She twisted her hips, and he placed both hands on her thighs, holding them down and open. She pulled sharper at his hair and he cried out against her, sucking her harder into his mouth.

"Aki! S-stop! Oh gods!"

She could hardly breathe, she felt as if she were going to pass out, going to scream-going to rip herself apart if he didn't finish it soon.

She fell back against the bed, panting, her fingers still fisted in his hair as his head moved beneathe her hands.

A tangle of pleasure was knotting in her gut, dragging tighter and tighter and pulling her nerves taut to hum with tension. Her spine bowed as he continued to hold her, as he used his whole mouth to drive her crazy.

That was the only explanation, he was driving her out of her mind, twisting truths and lies until one looked exactly like the other.

His hands slid slowly down to her knees, then up again. Splaying his fingers, he pushed her thighs further apart, and her eyes flashed open in shock as his tongue pushed inside her, his teeth pressing gently against her entrance.

"AKI!" She struggled wildly from side to side, her hips rising off the bed and her heel digging into his back.

His hands loosened their grip on her thighs, then slid under them, keeping her hips lifted in the air. His tongue pushed in deeper, rubbing and licking her constricting walls.

Her hips twitched, thrusting up, and he encouraged the movement, guiding her hips to roll up to meet his mouth. Her hands slammed on the bed, grasping the sheets desperately in her fists and jerking at them.

His nose rubbed back and forth against her clit, and she whimpered as his hot breath hit her.

He slowly drew his tongue out, leaving her cold and crying, then thrust back in. Sealing his mouth over her, he thrust hard into her again and again.

"Hah! Hah! Aki!-nnnh!"

She dug her head back into the pillow, her hair tangling over her face, damp strands of it stuck to her cheeks, her lips. He slid his hands further, bracing them under the small of her back and keeping her completely open and vulnerable to him.

Ice was sparking in her lower stomach, shooting bolts of heat and pleasure throughout her body. She felt her muscles clenching on their own, felt her legs and arms wanting to curl closer to her body, to curl around him, wrap around him and hold on.

Her leg spasmed, then slid further up on its own, dragging her heel over his spine and feeling how his muscles tensed and strained in the fast rhythm he had set.

Her bare breasts were bouncing, heaving, and with a shock she realized it was _her_. Her body was rocking, her hips pushing up harder and harder to meet his mouth. Saliva and her own wetness mixed, tracing tickling lines over her flesh, between her legs and up her spine. Her stomach was already folded tight, but it clenched harder, her entrance contracting and relaxing rhythmically around his tongue as it rapidly licked in and out of her.

Without warning, he pulled out with a deep sucking sound and a hard breath, tilting his chin up and dragging his tongue hard over her.

She shrieked, the only way to describe the sound that burned her throat as white heat suddenly burst inside her. Her body curled up, both her legs around his neck and her hands grasping desperately at his hair.

"Ah! Stop! Please stop! I can't-!"

She threw herself back, struggling away from his mouth as her orgasm continued, numbing her nerves even as they burned so hot that they were cold. She whimpered, cried, whined. She felt as if she was rising out of her body, or her body itself was rising...

"Aki!"

* * *

TBC...


	33. Hunted

Hunted

* * *

She woke up, her lips still formed around his name, though the only sound that escaped her was her breath, hard and harsh in the quiet of their apartment. For long moments she sat their and tried to slow her heart-beat. Tried not to think of the images that had haunted her dreams.

But she couldn't force her body to forget. Her thighs were slick under the wrinkled edge of her shorts, her centre throbbing almost painfully with need...

_No!...No...don't feel this way, Aya!_ _Don't_...

She could feel her breath filling her up, escaping her lips in a long, slow hiss. Her head turned slowly, a gold tangle of hair falling over her shoulder. Her heart was beginning to calm, but something strange was happening. Her body still felt light, and airy, except that dull ache between her legs. She was floating outside her body, tied to it by that strange need that was dragging her inner-voice under into silence.

She pushed the cover off, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. She didn't notice the slippers beside her feet, she took one step, and then another. With her hands open and empty at her sides, she stared down at the gold hair swept across the pillow. His lips slightly parted, his lashes resting, long and curved against his cheeks.

Silence was loud in her ears, stifling all her thoughts, filling her with such strange feelings. Strange...ideas. Even as her conscious mind did nothing to reach out and grasp them.

She _was_ conscious...wasn't she?

She slid to her knees, her hands pressed limply, and shakily, against the edge of the futon. She bowed her head, and her hair swung forward, falling around her eyes, spider-silk stirred by her breath.

Slow, deep, even breaths. She blinked once, her eyes opening slowly again. She stared down at the face below her, something within her humming. A taut string plucked.

In a move that seemed to take years, she tilted her head and finished her lean, fitting her bottom lip to his top, parting her lips and slowly opening her mouth to taste the suppleness of his flesh. It wasn't quite a kiss. It was more of a..._reaction_.

The moment seemed to stretch.

He took a breath, a deeper breath, and his lips rubbed unhurriedly, innocently against hers. She pulled back slowly. Her eyes now wide, but still not quite understanding, she pushed slowly to her bare feet. Turned and walked into the bathroom.

...

Behind the door, she leaned against it with her hand pressed limply to her chest. She was staring at the parted shower curtain, seeing the dull shine of light on tile. Slowly her hand slid from her heart and up to her lips. They rested there thoughtlessly for one long moment.

_I kissed Aki_.

She stared at the tile, seeing nothing. Seeing an inner-play where her hands were braced as she hovered over him. As her hair fell around his face, curtaining from the world the fact that her lips were pressed against his. Pressed against her _brother's._

**I**..._kissed Aki_.

...**Me**...

Her heart was beating faster and faster. She threw her hand down to her side and felt tears sting her eyes. But gritting her teeth she forced them back down, shoving away from the door. She pushed herself to the mirror, glaring at herself, 'facing' herself.

_What are you doing, Aya?_

_What. Are. You. **Doing**._

She was so angry all of a sudden. So, so angry. She wanted to scream, she wanted to kick the sink, the wall. She wanted to grab at handfuls of her hair and _just_ shriek.

The need shook in her hands, her legs. Pain sparked in her temple and the base of her skull as she tried not to give into the urge. She _couldn't_ be angry. She couldn't unleash _this anger_. That's not how it worked, that wasn't allowed.

But gods, she felt as if it was going to rip her apart. As if her throat was going to shred and crack just to keep in the shrill screams that were building up from her stomach.

She slapped her hands down on the cold counter, the fingers curving and straining as she dug them into the porcelain. Nails bending back slightly as she seemed to hold on tighter and tighter.

For several long moments she was just rage, her will holding her together and stationary by the barest of threads. Holding completely still because she knew any movement, no matter how small, might send her flying apart.

_What am I doing?_

She honestly didn't know anymore. Her flushed face darkened further as she recalled her dream. She desperately wanted to push the images away. Desperately wanted to forget, but she was just...so tired.

So confused...

So...lost.

She stumbled back from the mirror, not wanting to see herself anymore. All her anger drained away, just as quickly as it had filled her up. Leaving her shaky and exhausted in its wake.

She felt hollow, like when she moved there might be a dull ring of sound within her but nothing else. She slid down the wall opposite the sink and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her arms tightly around them. Leaning her forehead on her knee, she curved her shoulders, making herself a smaller and smaller target.

It was a gesture of the hunted.

But it wasn't Aki that she was trying to hide from...

_I...kissed him?_

She curled tighter.

_Why did I do that_?

...

_I didn't want to do that_.

...

_Did I_?

...

_It hadn't hurt...when his lips had moved...it had felt...strange_.

When she tasted his breath, breathed in his scent...

A deeper breath, her chest heaving slightly in the tight restriction of her arms.

_That dream_...

Forehead pressed against her knees, her eyes opened, staring sightlessly at nothing.

_That dream_...

_I dreamed he_...

_I said 'no'. I told myself I wanted it to stop. I _told _him to 'stop'. But _**I didn't** **stop**_. I didn't make him stop. I let him...I let him...I said 'no'...but I still let him..._

Gold hair...soft, tickling...under her fingers and between her thighs...

Her hands clenched, fingers twitching. A spasm shook through her lips as she felt that..._need_ reawaken in her stomach, pushing lower and harder with insistence.

His lips, soft, yielding beneathe hers...

Her hands slid up her knees, to press against her temples, harder and harder, as if she was consciously trying to squeeze something right out of her head.

_He didn't do that, Aya. You did that. Why did you do that?_

_Why?_

_Because_...

Her heart was beating hard and fast in her chest, her hands. She could feel an echo of it at her centre, curling out ribbons of heat up her stomach.

_Because..._

_Because I wanted to know._

The words came against her will, and she realized suddenly that the reason she had been struggling so hard to answer that question, was not because she didn't know the answer, but because she was trying so hard to push the answer away.

_I did it because I wanted to know. I __**want**__ to know_.

What? What did she want to know?

Answers always led to more questions.

_I want to know why_.

She took a deep breath, and then another. She slowly unclenched her hands.

Could she? Could she try to deal with this? Could she come to terms with this, get past it?

Without letting the idea find a home inside.

Already she could feel things changing. Could feel herself becoming less and less horrified by what she now knew. Could feel herself slowly edging past her disbelief.

That's what she told herself that she wanted. She wanted to move beyond this.

But what was beyond this?

What came after?

Dangerous paths were now open in her mind, and she was so terrified to walk down any of them. She didn't even know if she was on one now...

But her dreams...She couldn't control what she dreamed.

So why was her mind tormenting her with such images? Things that couldn't be. Things she never wanted to see.

The throb clenched harder, and she felt tears squeeze from her eyes.

_I don't want to feel this way..._

A weak voice in her mind, a little girl's voice. An echo of a voice long gone.

She slowly released her legs, letting them slide limply down to the floor. With her shoulders slumped forward, her hands rested palm-up on her thighs. She stared down at them, watching the familiar lines and curves ripple and blur.

_I...I didn't stop him..._

A broken whisper.

"I didn't even want to." 


	34. Trance

**Trance

* * *

**

She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew she had discarded some delusion last night. That some wall within her had been broken, or a line had been crossed. But the most terrifying part was...not knowing what. Something was definitely different now, but this change was beneathe the skin.

The kind of changes that stick.

Lying limply on her back in the centre of the bed, listening to the water shut-off and feeling the morning slowly gearing up to begin...she just didn't have the strength to look for answers for the moment.

Especially not when they matched up with questions that should never have been asked anyway.

_Knowledge is the hunter. I was chasing understanding, never realizing that it was chasing me_.

_Understanding leads to empathy. Empathy is a very dangerous emotion_.

At the same time, she knew she needed to understand-It was the only way to keep...this...from destroying them.

_I'm becoming a different person_, she thought forlornly. _Who will this new person be_...

_And why am I so scared of her_?

The bathroom door opened, but Aya didn't turn her head, she didn't even have the strength to be on-guard around him anymore.

_I don't want to see him right now_.

Apparently he didn't feel the same way, because his head blocked the view of her oh-so-appealing ceiling, and he tilted his head curiously, his brows furrowed.

A drop of water gathered at the end of one of his bangs, she didn't even flinch as it fell, landing on her cheek and sliding back into her hair like a cool tear.

"Aya, what are you doing?" A low, on the verge-of-concern voice. She really just wanted to lay there and pretend she didn't hear him until he went away. But she knew that ignoring him would actually achieve for her the exact opposite. So she slowly shifted her head that fraction to the right, her eyes seeming to drag just as slowly to his.

"Waiting," she didn't want to speak, her thoughts were moving so slowly. If they moved at all.

That look came into his eyes again, eyes seeming so much bluer when the water weighed and darkened his hair. It was that look that said, 'You are going to be difficult today, aren't you'.

She didn't mean to be. That wasn't her intention. She just couldn't seem to find even an ounce of motivation this day. She figured she wouldn't even be breathing if it wasn't an involuntary action.

"'Waiting'," he repeated slowly, clearly _waiting_ himself for her to explain.

Something in her..._niggled_ at the sound of growing concern in his voice. But it still wasn't enough to rouse her out of her semi-trance. Though 'trance' wasn't quite the right word, as she was fully aware. She just couldn't seem to find the energy to care.

"Waiting for you to get out of the shower." She almost felt as if she were slurring her words together. Like they were trying to jumble and stick in her mouth.

"...Okay. Well, I'm out now." But he was still standing over her, still looking down at her, clearly unsatisfied with her an answer. "Are you okay?"

Something in her wondered how many times he could ask her that before she just snapped and gave him a _true_ answer.

"I'm tired," she said. That, at least, was part of the truth. She was really getting good at this 'lying by omission' thing.

But probably nowhere near that he was.

"Aya, I'm really starting to get worried. You haven't been yourself these last couple of days. What's wrong?"

_You're in love with me, and I really don't know you anymore._

_Apparently, I never did_.

That hurt. Really, really hurt. She lay there as the pain chased through her, and didn't even flinch.

Plus, there were the dreams. Even in sleep she couldn't escape what she knew.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine."

"You're lying, Aya. I know you are."

She smiled slightly, it seemed just as involuntary as breathing.

Look who's talking.

_Come on, Aya_, she pleaded with herself. _You have to snap out of this, or he's going to realize you know. Is that what you want?_

She wasn't sure. But the thought of a confrontation terrified her. And fear was probably the best motivator of all.

With great effort she put her hands down on the bed and pushed slowly up. He took a step back as she slid her legs over the side. And just like that she was reminded of last night. She stared down at her slippers for a long second, seeing her shadow cast over him as she leaned forward.

Her hands twitched, but it took too much effort to fist them. Too much effort to force the image out, so she let it come, let it play out, then silently watched it dissipate back into the waiting darkness of her mind.

"I'm just tired, Aki. I didn't sleep well last night," she reiterated and explained, adding more truth to her lie. Then she tilted her head up to smile at him.

The smile froze on her face, "Why," she breathed.

He gave her a quizzical look, cocking his head to the side. Feeble lamplight glistened on his damp shoulder. His damp, _bare_ shoulder. His gold hair was ruffled slightly, either by his fingers or a towel.

"Why what," he asked, reminding her that breath and sound had passed her open mouth.

_Why...are you not dressed?_

He was wearing a towel, and that was it. An innocent white towel like every other one they had in their small bathroom.

His chest was damp, too. Flat and smooth and fair. His nipples were a dusky pink, small and hard, and she found herself staring at one, her tongue thick and dry, pressed against the back of her teeth.

That didn't take in the tapered waist, the peak of well-defined hip-bones disappearing beneathe the rough white cloth. His skin was damp and smooth, a sweet scent of shampoo, and clean flesh surrounding him.

She quickly forced her eyes back to his, feeling her cheeks prickle with heat, but not knowing how to stop it.

There was a spark way back in his eyes. A recognition of possibility that he quickly shoved away. And she realized suddenly that she had been staring. And what's worse, he had caught her.

Oh gods, if he found out. If he knew that she knew...

What would he do?

What would he...

What would _she_ do?

She couldn't line that thought up in her mind, let alone figure out where it might go next.

Brow slanted with persistent concern and puzzlement, he turned back to the dresser, neatly lifting out folded clothes and placing them on the top while he searched for whatever he was looking for.

"You know, if there's anything on your mind, Aya, you can talk to me about it. Anything at all." He didn't find it on the left side; he evenly replaced all the clothes, then began on the right.

Aya found herself staring at the low curve of his back, right above the towel. There was a graceful hollow leading to the base of his spine, a line of smooth, unmarked flesh.

Biting her lip she turned her head down and slid her feet into her pale, coral slippers. But a moment later her eyes flicked involuntarily back up. He had strong shoulders, a slender line of throat.

A tiny, unacknowledged part of her wondered how well her body would fit against his back. How warm and smooth, and firm the skin would feel under her cheek. Something in her wanted to press lips into that shallow dip of his back.

Her eyes widened, and she suddenly shoved herself up off the bed, making a quick beeline for the bathroom, and the safer view it afforded.

Though she was wondering if being alone with herself could be just as bad.

* * *

TBC...


	35. Captive

Captive

* * *

The door closed with a snap, and Aki's shoulders slumped, his hands hanging limply in the second dresser drawer.

_I imagined that, didn't I? That was all in my imagination._

The physical force of eyes on him, the tint of newness to those eyes.

_The staring._

He shuddered slightly, feeling a cold finger along the nape of his neck, while at the same time familiar heat infused his blood, flushed his cheeks.

_I imagined that. I had to have. Aya would never look at me like that. Never see me as...more..._

And while most of him fully believed that, a large part of him...hoped. It was that part of him that grew every day, that slowly ate away his resistance, until he found himself doing things like _this_.

He glanced down at the damp towel knotted tightly at his waist, then sighed. Reaching in, he lifted the pair of boxers folded neatly on the top, then closed the drawer. Shaking them out, he laid them across the bed, then paused, his eyes tracing up to where she had left her sheets in a tangle. Hearing the water switch on, he reached out and lifted up her pillow, petting his left hand over it slowly, his mind conjuring up the image of her gold hair spread across it in sleepy tangles.

She was so beautiful, so special. And it wasn't even her physical beauty that held him so captive. It was her...character. Her energy...her _spirit_, if you wanted to be hopelessly romantic. The way she moved, the way she spoke. The unique and strangely logical paths her mind took.

The way she tried, the way she played. The way she _needed_ him, though she was strong enough to take care of herself.

The way she looked at him sometimes, as if he were...essential. As if they weren't separate people, but the same person only in two bodies.

The way she looked at him this morning...

He brought the pillow up to his face and breathed deeply, imagining that look again. Had he imagined it the first time? Did he want her so badly that his mind was beginning to play tricks on him?

_No. It was real. But it couldn't have meant...could it?_

Dropping the pillow, he neatly placed it back at the head of the bed, absently smoothing down a crease across its middle.

Then he turned, and with a familiar shift of his hip, the towel landed in a crumpled puddle at his feet. Mechanically, he pulled on his underwear, then retrieved his clothes from the dresser, not really noticing what he chose.

He imagined making that move while she was still in the room. What a warped pleasure, knowing that the whole time he was standing there talking, all he had to do was twist his hips just right and then he would be naked before her.

Nudity was vulnerability, but gods he wanted to be vulnerable to her. He wanted to be completely at her mercy-half the time it felt as if he already was, anyway.

On went the shirt, dragging over his damp hair, he combed his fingers through to the ends, settling it back into somewhat place. His eyes were still hazy though, still trained on that inner-stage.

A tiny shift, and the barrier fell, useless cloth at his feet. She had been sitting there, balanced on the edge of the bed and giving him _that look_. But then her eyes widened, her fingers curling reflexively into the coverlet. She stared for a long moment as he stared back, then she turned her head, maidenly, modest. A surprised blush brightening her cheeks.

But she couldn't ignore him. He took a step forward and her eyes flicked to him. Then away. Then back again. Her legs slowly drew together, her knees turning in as her hands tightened into fists. Then her eyes lifted to him out-right, her presence saying, 'I'm not afraid'. Ready to face anything. And she held his eyes pointedly, not wavering to look at what was so readily on offer.

Another step forward, and he saw her will dither, the uncertainty spark in her eyes. But she quickly smothered it, not allowing that match to be struck in her mind. Her chin raised, a perfect line of beauty and stubbornness, even as her knees remained pressed hard together.

Have you ever wondered, he asked, if touching me is like touching yourself?

His breath deepened at the thought...of her touching herself.

He didn't speak it, but since this was his own fantasy, she still understood. She tilted her head curiously, her eyes weaving against her will over the familiar paths of his body.

He knew when she reached that part of him, because he could feel it like a touch, her attention reaching with hands to grasp, to understand. Slowly he felt the skin drawing tight, stiffening, throbbing. Slowly he watched her eyes widen again, seeing, feeling.

She looked away, with surprise and parted lips, shifting slightly on the bed. Her hands opened and closed, then opened again. She crossed them tellingly over her stomach, pressing down hard as more shallow breaths escaped her lips. She shifted again.

_Aya_, and her shoulders twitched, teeth pale and perfect as they sank into her bottom lip.

_Aya_. Another step. And another, as she tried not to notice him closing in.

Now he was close enough to reach, and he didn't hesitate. With his hands he combed her tangled hair back from her face, felt his heart beat more heavily when she slowly closed her eyes and turned into his hand.

Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, several strands of her hair tangled around his fingers. There was a haziness, a dreaminess swimming in her eyes, like she was seeing him, but not seeing him, like emotion was clouding her head to reason.

Her hand lifted, curling soft fingers around his wrist. And it rested there, not pushing nor pulling, but resting in complete trust. And the desire to touch.

He leaned down, and she rose up, and somewhere in the middle their lips met.

The water in the bathroom shut off, and he roused slowly, like waking from a deep sleep. He was standing beside the bed with his pants still in his hand, and his boxers uncomfortably tight across his hips.

With swift, controlled movements, he pulled on his pants, buttoning them with care and closing his eyes momentarily as the unyielding zipper dug slightly into just as insistent flesh. He rubbed his fingers gently over the ache and knew he didn't have the time.

Still, he savored this particular pain, using it to remind himself of where exactly he was.

Forcing his hand down, he swept up the towel then dropped it into the basket, forcefully turned his thoughts away from such unrealistic images. From relief, and a return of emotion that would never come.

Pushing aside all the lust, he found himself then consumed with worry once more. As he habitually went about making the bed, Aya's face returned to the forefront of his mind, subtle marks of distress thinning her lips.

And this morning...his chest tightened painfully...the dimness to her eyes...the deadness. The absolute surrender, as if she was just going to lay there and give up.

He had never seen her like that, and he hoped to never see her like that again. Aya wasn't meant to be quiet and resigned, and to see her wear such a costume-even momentarily...well, that was just unnatural.

_And scary_, he silently thought to himself, smoothing down the covers so they lay even and perfect over the bed.

He wished she would talk to him. He could tell something was bothering her. He could always tell, no matter how she tried to hide. Aya just wasn't good at the whole 'hiding' thing.

His mind flashed back to that 'look' again, and he forcefully pushed it away. He wouldn't even entertain that thought.

That thought would drive him insane.

_She's hiding something, but it's not that. Why won't she talk to me?_

Pain, a stinging pain behind the eyes as that...'young'...thought surfaced. Unwillingness to confide implied a lack of trust. Not always true, but it still stung, nonetheless.

He wanted to just stop her, stop _everything_, until she told him. Whatever it was, it was powerful. And destructive. He could see it breaking things apart in her eyes.

_Is that where that 'look' came from...?_

Again, he pushed that image, and anything connected with it, away. It would poison his perception, weaken his resolve.

Though he found himself weakening anyway. Despite his best efforts.

Like the towel...

The touches...

The illicit thrill of some secret game.

He loathed and loved it, all at the same time.

If he concentrated, he was okay. But it was the 'not thinking' that was getting him in trouble. When he didn't think, when he didn't pay attention, _when he was himself_...he found himself doing these things, playing these one-sided games.

Sometimes he caught himself in the act, and he grew so furious he could hardly keep from screaming. Sometimes he realized what he was doing...and he didn't stop. Sometimes he purposefully looked away so this...other side of him could come through.

Guilt was so much easier to ignore in retrospect.

The guilt was getting easier to ignore, period. Every day, another part of it fell away, fell into dust as if it had never been. More and more, he became accustomed to this strange love, acceptant of this...uncanny desire.

More and more he was relaxing into his own skin, learning to know this more self-aware person.

Edging closer to a willingness to..._try_.

But that was one line he was still holding himself back from. Aya was more important than anything, more important than himself. And as long as she...never gave him reason to believe she felt, or could feel for him in such ways-then he was never going to cross that line.

No matter how much he loved her.

No matter how bad it hurt.

If...by some strange twist of fate, she did share some of his feelings...if she ever looked at him and saw more than her twin brother...

His hand fisted, wrinkling the cover he had just smoothed to perfection.

_If she ever looked at me that way..._

_..._

_I'd make her mine.

* * *

_TBC...


	36. Tether

Tether

* * *

Night came again before she was ready. Sleep was no longer a refuge, not when her own mind wasn't letting her rest lately. The things it showed her...she didn't really want to think that way. Did she?

She was calm again as she stared up at the light-speckled ceiling. The stars were already dimming, it had been dark too long and they were losing their strength. As she listened to Aki's even breaths, the soft, occasional shift of the bed as he slept peacefully, she let that quiet temper her mind, let her thoughts skate on the surface of emotion.

_I'm sick of fighting this. Why am I fighting this? If I let myself think about it, maybe the image will lose its strength..._

_When we keep pushing a thought away, the harder it is for us to ignore._

A deep breath, and then another, she purposefully folded her hands over her stomach, then slowly closed her eyes.

_I'm going to think about this, and let that thought take me where it may. If I face it, then it will lose its power..._

_I hope..._came the weak after-thought.

So she lay still for a long moment, and nothing happened.

_How..._

_Okay...guess I'll have to start._

_..._

She took herself back three nights. Placed herself down beside him at the futon. Taking another deep breath, she reformed the image in her mind.

First, she drew his face, the sleep-tousled gold hair, the smooth curve of cheek and graceful curl of eyelash. The teeth marring his bottom lip, swelling and darkening it with blood as soft, needy sounds escaped him.

She traced slowly down his neck, his bare shoulders, so slender and strong. The curious hollows and lines of his chest, defined in that perfect balance of muscle and boyish softness.

_Aki...he really is beautiful..._

Why hadn't she noticed this before?

Okay, now the image was shifting. Slowly, as if to test her resolve. His eyes were open and he was looking at her. He reached up a hand and slid it along her cheek. Fingers curved around her throat, but she rested calmly, in perfect trust as they weaved through the baby fine hair at her nape.

Gentle, insistent, he pressed down, guiding her closer, until she hovered over him in an almost perfect imitation of last night.

So close, breath to breath, they paused and she stared, feeling her heart thumping faster in her chest. How had she not noticed...?

She felt so light, like she was a balloon that would just float away if it wasn't for that hand on her neck, keeping her tethered.

'_Aya,'_ a sleepy feeling came over her at the sound of his voice, it slowed her heart to something deep and heavy. It weighed her eyelids down without her notice.

Years of hearing his voice-had she actually ever heard it before? Did it really sound like _that_?

She was the one that leaned that last inch forward, took that last step over the line. Parting her lips softly, she closed them over his, breathing, testing. Sliding between and over his. He moaned against her mouth, just a small sound, but it shuddered though her body as his fingers moved in her hair.

She initiated, but he led. Caressing his thumb behind her ear, then over her jaw, he parted his lips beneath hers and changed the dance. His tongue slid into her mouth, brushing over her front teeth, and she shuddered again, making some noise in her throat that she didn't understand.

But he did, he answered it with his own, and deepened the kiss further, tasting her, learning her. _Enticing her. _ His tongue curled around hers then slid down, then again. She hesitantly followed, having never kissed like this before, and not fully understanding what to do.

His lips moved again, embracing hers, sucking gently and rubbing teeth. When he finally pulled back for a breath, the kiss didn't stop. He drew his tongue along hers, swirling, rubbing. Then he licked her teeth, her lips, leaving glistening saliva to cool and lace over her lips.

There were tears in her eyes when she opened them, a hazy surprise. She hadn't known kissing could be like that. That it could be so...

Sensuous...emotional...pleasurable. She had always imagined it as lip and tongue and movement. And that was all.

But there were nuances, details. Possibilities that made it so...captivating.

So..._repeatable_.

At the guiding of his hand on her neck, she crawled slowly into the futon, laying down on her side to keep eye-contact while he shifted to face her as well.

Sheets rustled, toes brushed. She rested her cheek against his pillow and breathed deep of his familiar calming scent. Her eyes half-open, she still stared into his.

He smiled gently at her, turning his face slightly into the pillow and warming her face with a content sigh. She shuddered again, and his fingers tightened in her hair. Not pulling, but petting. Touching, caressing against warm skin. It seemed a reaction that he wasn't even aware of.

It enticed her forward. With a timid downturn of her eyes she found his lips again, bringing her own hand up to twine through his hair, and press soft palm against smooth cheek.

Again, the kiss became something new, something she hadn't expected. With a more ragged breath, he played with her lips, using teeth and tongue to illicit a tiny sound from her throat. She found her hand sliding back into his hair, curling into a tight fist to hold him close. Found the feel of his teeth draw her body inexplicably closer, pressing her covered breasts into his bare chest as his hand slid from her hair, and down her back, pulling into him in its path. He tilted and angled the kiss, becoming aggressive, only to fall right back into sweetness. Advancing to retreat.

She was breathing hard when he drew back. Dazed and shocked to find herself pressed close against him, her leg wound tight around his hip and his hand under her shirt, hot fingers splayed across the small of her back.

"_Aya_," and he smoothed his hand down, drawing her in as his hips slowly pushed forward.

She gasped, she couldn't not, as she felt heat and hardness against her centre, pressing gently, slowly, again and again. Her leg tightened around him, her toes instinctively curling and dragging up and down his calf.

"Aki," she breathed, "Aki..." and his hand slipped further down, pulling her in tighter, closer. Her thighs spasmed as cloth-shrouded hardness pushed between them, growing damp as a throb squeezed through her lower stomach.

With a breathless sigh she sprawled over on her back, and he followed, keeping pressed tight against her as he fit perfectly between her legs.

_Oh_, she mouthed as the new position changed something, deepening the angle of his push against her centre.

Her hair spread in sleepy tangles over his pillow, his face a familiar shadow in the dimness, and the intense darkness of his eyes stabbed down her middle, leaving an aching heat instead of pain.

His hands combed through her hair, sweetly tangling it through his fingers as he slowly made a graceful push with his hips, again...

And again...

And again...

She felt her feet press flat against the futon, pressing her hips up to deepen and prolong the contact. Her thighs cradled his hips, holding close and wanting to squeeze harder and harder around him.

He kissed her again, and she followed eagerly, winding her arm around his neck and opening her mouth without prompt under his. Mimicking his previous motions, she slid her tongue into his mouth, but he pulled back, winding his tongue around hers and enticing hers to curl around his. With a hazy moan, he swirled his tongue around hers, in a wet, strange kiss. Then he gently closed his lips over her tongue and sucked, drawing it further from her mouth and into his. Pulling back again, he licked up her tongue, flicking the tip right across the end of hers, causing a hard shudder to shake her whole body.

She was panting now, squirming. She lunged up when he pulled back for a breath, and she licked across his mouth, his jaw. She felt half-wild, wanting to sink her teeth into him, or feel his hands on her arms, holding her down while she thrashed. She wound her arm tighter around his neck and pulled him back down to her, kissing his jaw, his cheek, dragging her teeth over the lobe of his ear.

He shuddered, his hips suddenly thrusting harder against her, and her legs jolted, raising seemingly on their own to wrap tight around him.

"Oh!" This time she couldn't keep silent as she felt the new angle open her legs more to him, felt the heat and hardness of him even through two layers of clothes.

His lips were on her neck, his breath. And she turned her face into his, kissing his cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair. Then she turned her head down and kissed his jaw, his shoulder. Her hands slid slowly, blindly over his back, tracing the curve of his spine, and finding that smooth dip that had so fascinated her earlier. The muscles were so tense here, the skin so silken soft. Flattening her hands, she slowly slid them down, following the shallow curve of his back and slipping them just past the waistband of his shorts.

She closed her eyes and panted, tasting electricity zinging through her blood at the feel of his body pumping in that strangely familiar rhythm against her own. The push and sway of his hips, the rubbing of damp cloth against damp cloth, hardness against softness.

She needed more. _Wanted more. _ She pushed her hands further down under his shorts and cupped them both around him, squeezing as she thrust up. He cried out, his spine suddenly bowing as she felt the soft flesh under her nails tremble. He threw his head back, pushing up with his arms as he rose above her, his hips pressed as tightly to her as they could be.

So tight that she felt that hard, hot part of him jerking, felt the dampness spreading, seeping into her own shorts.

He groaned, his head falling forward limply as the base of his spine tightened and relaxed under her hands, as he began to shake, his chest heaving.

She stared up at him in wonder, and surprise, and possessiveness...

She wanted to feel as he did...to cry and shake...and..._not be in control_...

She wanted...she wanted...

An image flashed across her mind, of naked, entangled limbs. Of pale flesh and gold hair, and darkness cradling them as they committed this intimate sin...

* * *

TBC...


	37. Penetrate

Penetrate

* * *

Her eyes shot open wildly as fear tore through her chest. Fear that seemed to mix with the hard throbbing of her body, and actually make it sharper.

_I...it wasn't supposed to go that far_...

She wasn't sure how far she had planned to take it, but not that far...not...

Tears pricked her eyes in the dark as she squeezed her legs together hard, as her hands shook at her sides.

A smaller voice, far back in her head. _I wasn't supposed to feel it..._

She was uncomfortably wet, her body squeezing and contracting in the same rhythm that his hips had pushed against her. She had been careful to keep their clothes on, to not stray too far into the forbidden zone...

It had been a silly rationalization, that the barrier of thin fabric would keep her safe. That the worst her mind could take her was penetration.

Penetration of the mind...that's what this was all about. That was the true danger...the one she had been unprepared for, the one she had turned her head and ignored.

_I didn't need to know this. Why did I think this would help?_

But pushing it all away wasn't helping either. Pushing it out of her mind, or pulling it in...which was worse?

_Ignoring it was driving me crazy! But letting it in...letting..._

Her body continued to shake with unfulfilled desire, her knees squeezing hard together as she shifted helplessly.

_I didn't want to ever see him this way. But how could I not? How could I..._

Her name, whispered with pain and need, as he thrust into some dream of her. As his seed was a salty, strange taste on her tongue.

She self-consciously licked her own lip, tasting a fine sheen of sweat as her legs contracted with the need to curl up, with the unignorable pound of her heart-beat, seemingly growing and echoing through her body. It squeezed like a fist low in her gut, harder and harder. And she wanted-No. She _needed_ to make it stop...But how...?

_You know how._

She closed her eyes down tight, pressing the heels of her palms hard into her eyelids until the darkness was chased with strange after-images. She didn't deny or examine, she simply lay there in her fear and desire and...hurt.

Then her hands grew limp, falling down to her sides. She stared up at the dark ceiling one long moment, just breathing. Then a tear gathered at the corner of her eye, slipping silently over her cheek to absorb into her hair.

Another silent moment, as she relaxed into the bed, letting her legs fall open slowly, feeling the way the bed sheet was slightly damp under her. With slow determination she pulled the cover up higher around her neck, then slid her hands down, following familiar paths and feeling more intensely then she ever had before. She didn't remove her shorts, or fumble with the waistband, but slid her hands right under the elastic, and down into her panties. The cotton was so sodden that it was cool against her knuckles. Curving her fingers around her sex she slowly pushed her middle finger and ringfinger in, feeling the stretchy tightness, and not understanding at all how he could possibly fit. She bit her lip hard as her mind tried to puzzle out this enigma, her breathing accelerating.

_No! Don't think! Just get it over with, and let it go!_

Slipping her now wet fingers out, she drew them slowly up, her spine tensing in anticipation of what instinctively came next.

A hard breath as her fingers finally found that small bundle of nerves, as they gently traced over it once before she slowly drew her nail across it.

Her hips jolted up from the bed, her legs closing again on their own. Her thighs squeezed hard around her own hand but she didn't care. She _liked_ the feeling. She rubbed deeper, and her hips reflexively followed, pushing slightly up off the bed, then falling back.

Her eyes closed as relief and pleasure burned pathways from her lower stomach. As heat filled her, edged by a strange icy numbness that seemed better than anything.

She turned her head aside into her own hair, lifting her free hand to her mouth and biting down on her knuckle-needing to bare her teeth, to bite something.

To taste flesh in her mouth, even if it was her own.

_Does he taste like me...?_

She gasped, her knees drawing up higher as her body curled helplessly around this feeling, the pleasure sharpening without warning. She found her tongue lapping sloppily at her own fingers, her teeth pulling gently at the skin...

_I want...I want..._

She gently shifted onto her side, still keeping up the steady pace of her touches, even though her body shook almost violently.

_I want..._

She shook her head slightly, not even realizing it as more moisture squeezed out from the corners of her tightly closed eyes.

_I want to taste..._

She was teetering, she could feel release so close, right beyond her outstretched hand. She needed something...something to push her that last step into falling...something...

She tried to draw on the image of Touya, but it wouldn't come. Not clearly anyway, not anymore.

She thought of Yuuhi, of him pushing her to the floor, so desperate, so passionate-but that fantasy also unraveled quickly under her fingers. That was past, it wasn't quite real to her anymore. Wasn't...

_He threw his head back, pushing up with his arms as he rose above her, his hips pressed as tightly to her as they could be..._

_So tight that she felt that hard, hot part of him jerking, felt the dampness spreading._

She cried out, her ankles crossing and rising up off the bed, hips lifting as her legs wrapped around her phantom-lover.

She was biting and licking her hand, then her hand shot down as she continued to lick her lips. She grasped her own breast, digging her nails in and squeezing hard as the sudden orgasm rode her. She didn't want to stop, but gods, it almost _hurt_.

_I can't...I can't take it-!_

Her hand stopped, and she suddenly fell back against her pillow, her legs sprawling, open and limp as the muscles still twitched with exertion and pleasure. The sheets under her were soaked, clammy and sticking to the backs of her thighs. Her mouth and both hands were wet, but she couldn't care about that. For one second none of that mattered as relief translated into tiredness, and sleep tried to drag her under.

She let it.

Because the alternative was coming to terms with what exactly had penetrated her mind in those final moments.

Or who...

* * *

TBC...


	38. Unfinished

Unfinished

* * *

An hour later, Aki crawled shakily from the futon, checking first to make sure that Aya was finally asleep.

On just as shaky legs he went to the bathroom and firmly closed the door.

The light burned his eyes and he blinked rapidly for several minutes, trying to gain his bearings. And reign in the swirling thoughts in his head.

He slowly reached out and turned on the tap, rinsing his hands. Then he rung out the rag that hung draped over the faucet, and wiped at his arms, the moves slow and mechanical as he purposefully ignored the thoughts spinning in his head.

That done, he rinsed out the rag and dropped it in the basket, pulling out another one to drape, dry over the faucet. Taking a slow breath, he finally lifted his eyes to the mirror and just waited for whichever thought that would surface first.

_I didn't know._

_I didn't know Aya did things like that. Felt things like that._

It was stupid of him to think of his sister as a prude, he knew her better than that, after all. And she was far too passionate to remain chaste forever...

But that didn't alter facts...He hadn't know. He had _imagined_, sure, but that wasn't the same thing as..._knowing_.

_She thought I was asleep..._

He hadn't realized what she was doing at first. He had heard the sheets shift, seen dim movement under the covers, but he had thought only that she was dreaming.

At her soft gasp, he tensed, poised to leap up and 'rescue her' if it turned out her dreams were actually nightmares. But there had been a tone to that gasp that had stilled him, a breathlessness that twinged in his spine. So he lay still and he listened, waiting to see how this dream would play out.

As he watched her shift and curl up under the covers, a realization began to form, not in his mind, but in his stomach.

Those slight movements...

Those soft sounds...

She couldn't be...could she...?

He would never forget the sound of her gasp as her legs rose up off the bed, crossing and tightening as if around some phantom-lover's hips. Nor the sight of her arching up, again and again, as if to receive him.

_No_, he corrected quickly, _not me. probably Touya...or Yuuhi..._

Intense jealousy clenched his hands on the counter.

_I want to be the one she dreams about._

He didn't fight the thought, because that was stupid. Denial didn't make it any less true. And he was so beyond denial now.

Acceptance was really the only way to go to maintain his sanity, but it left him feeling anxious...and strangely unfinished.

His hands always seemed to be shaking now, whenever she was near. Even if that nearness was only in his mind. They shook now, as they loosened on the counter. He smoothed his fingertips tentatively over the cool surface, and watched their slow progress.

The sounds she made...barely sounds at all...sharper breaths, rustling cloth...

His eyes closed as heat flashed hard through him, seeming to loop around his chest in a band of tightening pressure.

_Aya..._

He wanted to touch her, taste her. He wanted to hold her close and watch her face as she touched herself. He wanted to feel the movements of her body, her arms shaking, her legs rubbing together. He wanted to crawl over her on hands and knees and brand the image into his mind.

Then he wanted to slide down her body and taste her, feel her thighs squeeze tight around his ears.

This knowledge he now possessed, it was strangely unsettling. Even as it was compelling.

_She's thinking this way. About these things...how long before she finds someone to show her..._

_That boy at her work..._

Ardor cooled again to jealousy. He was interested, it wasn't hard to see that. Aya didn't seem to return his interest, but how long before that changed?

_If she's thinking in these ways...then it won't be long at all._

_Maybe he's the one she was imagining._

Poisonous thoughts, poisonous ideas. Emotion went beyond jealousy, falling right into...sadness. Shoulders slumped, chin nearly tucked to his chest, he felt like a puppet on a string, letting his feelings jerk him around.

And that was too dangerous to allow to go unchecked.

So he lifted his eyes, and he pushed it away. He pushed it all away, knowing it was the only way he was going to sleep tonight.

And he desperately, desperately wanted to fall into sleep...

* * *

TBC...


	39. Denial

Denial

* * *

Rei was watching her again. It seemed 'her boyfriend' could only be a buffer for so long before the older boy's interest was engaged again.

_I'm just too cute for my own good_, she thought weakly, trying to make light of the situation. She was actually feeling much better this morning. For once she had slept the night through, and thankfully without any dreams to wake her gasping.

She hummed distractedly as she showered. Forced a smile for Aki when they were heading out the door, and steadfastly _did not_ think about anything at all but the perfect weather.

Okay, so winter was finally settling in, and it was cold enough that she actually needed gloves this morning. But, by skiers' standards, that _was_ perfect weather.

She also did not notice his eyes following her this morning, much closer than usual. Nor did she catch the way his breath hitched slightly when she knelt to tie her shoes. She didn't notice any of this, because she steadfastly decided she didn't want to.

And last night...Well, last night simply did not exist. And if it did, it was a distant dream.

And dreams didn't mean a thing.

They were in a lull, before the afternoon traffic, and Aya found herself wiping down the small tables distractedly, as her mind wandered to things that could have been.

She never really liked school, but she found herself missing it now. If not for the tedious lessons and long hours, then for the laughter and friends. And the _choice_.

The future ahead of her seemed so...closed.

Work work work.

Hide hide hide.

Fear.

The towel stopped its whirl around the table, as her fingers clenched in rough cloth.

That wasn't a word she liked. That wasn't a part of her vocabulary.

_We're full of denial today, aren't we?_

_Shut up_, she muttered silently, pushing her darker voice away with the ease of practice. She wasn't thinking about..._that_. There was no 'that' to think about.

She pushed away from the table and moved on to the next one.

Eyes followed her. She could feel it like an itching between her shoulderblades. Slowly lifting her head, she glanced out the front windows, berating herself quickly when she didn't see him there.

Then she turned just slightly, seeing Rei leaning on the counter next to the cash register, his chin in his hand. He smiled at her when he saw her looking. She smiled back, thinking that maybe she really hated boys.

Before the moment could stretch into invitation, she turned back to her work and concentrated only on wiping out ever spot of imperfection that she could find.

"Aya?"

She closed her eyes momentarily in exasperation, then reopened them, pasting a cheerful smile on her face as she straightened again. Rei was standing next to the table now, and she noted that he looked especially silly in his brown apron. Though she couldn't really judge, as she was wearing the same.

"Rei, what's up?" she asked brightly, feeling anything but bright at the moment.

Maybe the 'niceness' wasn't a good idea to discourage him, but what could she do? He was shift-manager after all, and she had to work with him nearly every day.

"Some of us are getting together Friday night for a little party, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

The 'with me' wasn't said, but it was definitely implied, and Aya froze, not having prepared for this eventuality. Though honestly, she should have.

_Don't commit_, something warned her. But she couldn't be outright rude either.

She raised her eyebrows slightly in consideration, then frowned prettily. "I'm not sure. Aki mentioned doing something Friday night, but I don't know if he really made any plans..."

Stay of execution. She needed more time to think of how to answer this question.

He didn't even wilt this time at the mention of Aki's name, she noted.

"Okay...well, let me know if you can go. It's going to be at Shiori's house, and she can throw really good parties."

Shiori was another co-worker of theirs. Though Aya didn't know her well, she did know _of_ her. She was a bit of a wild-child apparently.

Not that Aya held that against her or anything, seeing as she was much the same.

When she wasn't hiding.

_Don't get involved with these people_, something warned her again.

_I'm not getting involved. I don't want to go anyway._

_Why?_

Well now, she didn't really know the answer to that, other than she didn't much like Rei.

And Aki didn't-

"Okay, just let me see if we have any plans, and I'll definitely let you know something by Friday."

_Or tomorrow. As soon as I figure out a believable lie._

Her life was so full of undercurrents now. Sometimes she worried that they were slowly dragging her under.

* * *

TBC...


	40. Prelude

Prelude

* * *

When they got home, Aki stepped right in her path and stopped her at the door. She instantly leaped back, her eyes going wide as her shell of denial cracked for just an instant.

He didn't notice, he was too busy practically glowing at her. He had that 'I just aced the big test you were struggling with' look to him. Unfortunately, she had seen that look in its proper context, so she knew what she was talking about.

"Aki," she sighed, her voice saying 'what did you do?'

He bounced slightly on his heels, though he gave her a mock-look of seriousness. "Why do you take that tone of voice with me?"

She frowned. "What?"

"That 'what have you done now?' voice, like I'm the one who is always doing something..."

He was clearly in a very good mood, it always showed when he took the time to tease her.

"Okay," she shrugged. "What have you done now?" She leaned against the wall across from their door, still trying to get her heartbeat to slow after he had stepped in her path.

It was her own evil mind that had shown her a split-second image of him pushing her back against the wall...But she quickly shoved it away, ignoring it with the deliberation of one desperate.

Aki wouldn't do that...

_And you know this because you know him so well, right?_

Again, she ignored that thought. She couldn't consider something like that, and still hold everything out.

He frowned, clearly not expecting her seriousness. Honestly, he was being too lenient on her with how she was behaving. Had their roles been reversed she would be teasing him mercilessly right now.

She was so angry with him all of a sudden. She wanted to get right up in his face and scream at him. Scream at him and scream at him until the world made sense again.

_How can you do this, Aki? How can you stand there and act...just like my brother? That's now who you are at all, is it?_

_..._

_Is it?_

There were answers that she wanted. But they were questions that she _couldn't_ ask.

"Aya?"

She'd been quiet too long. That was always a dead give away for her. Aki was getting that look again, that look that preluded that dreaded question. So she opened her mouth and quickly cut him off before he could ask. "I'm fine. Really. It's just been a long day."

_How many excuses can I use before he stops letting me hide behind them?_

The time was fast-approaching. But apparently his news was too great to be suppressed long enough for him to argue with her. But he didn't speak, with a quick grin he pulled open the door and ushered her in.

Casting him a suspicious look, she crossed her arms over her stomach and slowly stepped through the door. Her awareness was so centred on him behind her that she didn't even see it at first.

Set to the side of the futon, resting plainly on the floor, was a medium-sized television set. It was clearly second-hand, and probably a few years old, but Aya's eyes widened all the same.

"I know it gets boring here," he was saying, "I'm happy with reading my books," he gave her a fond look as he came around her shoulder. "But I know you've never had much patience for them. It actually didn't cost that much, I only had to save for a couple of weeks. Besides..." Now he was looking at her anxiously, clearly waiting for a response. "I know how you like your romances..."

She blinked at him. _I'm happy. I am...But what should I do? What would I have done a week ago...?_

"Aki," she turned to him with a smile, making it especially bright to draw his attention away from the persistent swirl of turmoil in her eyes. "This is wonderful! Thank you!" She stepped forward and put her arms around him, praying earnestly that he couldn't feel how hard and fast her heart was beating.

A breath of hesitance, and then his arms came up slowly around her. When she didn't draw back he began to relax against her in slow pieces.

How had she never noticed this, this shift of his embraces? His arms weren't tight, but they were close and firm. His hands rested gently low on her back, fingers just barely dipping past the waistband of her skirt. And he always turned his face inward now, not resting on her shoulder, but pressed against her hair. Close enough that she could feel him breathing her in. His ribs expanded against her with how deep he took her in.

She breathed too, feeling calmed by his familiar scent despite everything.

_I really am touched_, she thought, _he didn't have to do this_. It's not as if he much cared for TV anyway. Aki was content with a book and a set of headphones. Her whole mood lightened as she flashed back on a memory of him, sitting at his desk, tapping his pencil to the music only he could hear, while he read over his homework. She never understood how he could split his attention like that, but the image was so perfectly him, and...peaceful, that she found her eyes closed, and a tiny, real smile on her face.

"Let's watch something!" Pulling back slightly, she grabbed his arm and dragged him right over to the TV, shedding her purse and jacket along the way.

He frowned slightly at the items strewn haphazardously across the floor, but allowed her to plop him down on the futon, throwing herself down as well. She daintily removed her shoes, and placed them neatly aside. Then reached out and switched on the TV.

* * *

TBC...


	41. Duality

Duality

* * *

It was edging towards nine-thirty, and Aya found herself completely engrossed with the drama unfolding before her. It was about a girl who had been forced to transfer to a 'rich' school by her family. The girl made many friends there. And enemies. And people that were in between.

Like the lead male, who was constantly teasing her about her 'poor' upbringing. They had many misadventures, and misunderstandings, but in the end it turned out the boy really liked the girl.

Aya was a sucker for such stories, so she found herself watching avidly, completely oblivious to the real world.

The girl was so dense sometimes, it took her forever to even realize that the boy liked her. And when she did, she went through this long angsty spell where she swore up and down that she didn't-_couldn't_ feel the same. At one point, Aya wanted to reach into the TV and shake the girl silly.

They were just at the moment when the boy was cornering the girl, he was going to make her face the fact that she was in love with him, too! And then...

Nothing. Aya fell asleep.

Which didn't really matter, Aki thought in amusement, as just at the pivotal moment, when the girl opened her mouth to...react, the end theme came up and the story was left unfinished for another night.

The story was amusing to him, of course, but he still preferred to read a good book. You could get into the character's heads better that way, while images on a screen lacked a certain level of..._something_. Something that clearly defined the character. Or, more clearly, in some cases. He was far more interested in what lay beneathe the surface. The deeper the better.

He rolled over onto his back, feeling calm and content as he watched dim light and shadow chase each other across the ceiling.

_Everybody has a secret side. A side of themselves that they don't show anybody. Even Aya_, he thought, turning his head to look at the girl sleeping deeply at his side. She was laying on her stomach, sideways across the futon, her legs sprawled like a child's across the floor. Her arms were above her head, wrapped loosely around a pillow. Her lips gently parted, her hair in soft tangles, trailing across her temple and arm, the ends curling on the floor.

He remembered the night before, and his own absurdity for having not thought about such a possibility before. But the thought didn't really excite him this time. Yes, there was that desire that always simmered under the surface of his thoughts for her. But he was just so warm...and soft. All he wanted was to cuddle close to Aya, and breathe her in.

With slow, almost dream-like movements, he reached out one hand and lifted a lock of her hair. Pushing up on his elbow, he leaned across her and lowered his face, bringing that lock of hair up to his nose and lips.

Closing his eyes, he breathed, slow and deep, feeling his body relax further at the familiar scent of Aya, and sweet shampoo.

He sighed, drawing gently back with lowered eyelashes. He tenderly looped the tress over her shoulder, resettling it away from her face and leaving the soft curve of her cheek exposed.

He stayed on his elbow though looking down at her.

_I am so in love with you._

He wanted to say it out-loud. He _needed_ to say it to her, even if she wasn't conscious enough to actually hear it.

Leaning forward once more, he tilted his head slowly. "I am in love with you..." A whisper, barely enough to actually be called sound. It was more a movement of lips and breath, but it was enough to stir the spider-silk of hair fallen across her throat, and she moved slightly, shifting her shoulders.

Another soft touch on her hair, then he slowly retreated. Laid back in his previous spot and forcefully turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

The light from the TV was muted, but it was still enough to hide the 'stars' directly above them. Though the patterns further away were much clearer, and constantly being re-charged at the faint glow that just barely reached the shadows in the corner.

With an absent flick he reached back and above his head, groping for the switch until he found it. The room was plunged into true darkness, and for one moment he was blind. Then slowly the familiar shapes and shadows began to emerge.

Without the distracting light, the stars directly above them were glowing strong and bright now, while the more-distant ones were flickering and slowly going out.

He found himself hazily following new lines in those stars, making shapes where he hadn't seen any before.

Not bothering with a cover, or the fact that both of them were laying half on the floor, and half on the futon, he felt himself drifting closer to sleep, and had no will to fight it. In moments his eyes closed, and he was gone.

( ) *

Something woke her. What was it? It seemed too much effort to lift her head, so she moved her half-open eyes, seeing her gold hair in the darkness.

Okay, she thought, then started to drift back to sleep.

Her eyes flicked open again, as whatever woke her...persisted. Trying to gather her wits through her sleepiness, she waited for it to happen again. She didn't wait long. The bed beneathe her was...moving. A gentle rise and fall.

Even in her half-asleep state, that didn't seem normal to her. She drew her head up slightly, and stared blinkingly down at gold hair.

It took her a long second to realize that it couldn't possibly be her own. She didn't startle awake. She slowly pushed up, realizing that those soft movements were his deep, even breaths.

Her hair hung, tangled and loose over her eyes as she stared down at him. She yawned, her eyes closing momentarily, then slowly re-opening. She tilted her chin marginally, taking distant catalog of their position, but not really assimilating the information. Her mind was so very slow-moved when she wasn't fully awake.

He was laying on his stomach, his head cradled on his arms as his hair fell in dishevelment.

She was pretty much sprawled across his side and back, her leg thrown over one of his and her hand resting on the curve of his shoulder. Her face was nearly pressed into the base of his neck, her nose buried in his hair.

Something about this...stuck with her. But she couldn't think of why. She was so sleepy, and warm. Laying back down in her previous position, she brought her hand slowly up from his shoulder and rested it under her chin, fingertips just barely resting on the warm skin above his skewed collar.

Having been barely awake, it didn't take very long for her to slip under.

* * *

TBC...


	42. Clean

Clean

* * *

Aya awoke to the sound of water running. She was laying cuddled up under the blanket on the futon, her hair a tangled mess over her eyes. She pushed it out of the way and rolled over onto her back, rolling right off the edge of the futon in the process. The floor was cold, and hard, and it jolted her wide awake.

Sitting up and quickly dragging the cover back around her, she stared blearily at the bottom of the bathroom door, where light was peeking around its edge.

_I don't remember going to sleep_, she realized. And then she felt her whole being brighten when she realized...nothing. No dreams. No un-allowable thoughts. Just a full-night of uninterrupted rest.

Gods, she felt...refreshed. Bounding suddenly with energy, she flung the blanket off and got up. Then forcefully pushed herself back to the futon, smoothing the cover out over it and re-settling the pillow. She looked curiously at the bed and noticed that it was already made...curious because he usually waited until after his shower.

Of course, she usually waited until the last moment, so she couldn't fault him for doing things out of order, now could she?

_I feel great today_! She really did. All the thoughts that had been weighing her down for the last couple of days...they weren't gone, but they seemed lighter somehow. Flimsier. Like she could turn her head and easily ignore them.

_And that's just what I'm going to do_, she decided firmly. Humming to herself, she sashayed over to the dresser and began pushing things about.

She was looking for something special today. She was in a great mood, and she wanted her clothes to definitely reflect that. So she smiled as she snatched up a skirt and top, then her favourite panty-set.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for Aki to get out.

She sat primly down on the foot of the bed, and waited calmly.

For five seconds, before she shifted impatiently, crossing one leg over the other.

_Come on. Come on—come on._

The water shut-off.

_Yes!_

More time passed.

_Aki! Come on!_

The faucet at the sink turned on. Aya twitched, her whole body slumping forward. _Is it backwards day or something? Aki doesn't usually take this long in the bathroom in the morning..._

_And you're usually not so quick to crawl out of bed,_ something in her pointed out meaningfully.

She frowned. Well, that was true. Aki often had to 're-awaken' her when he was done in the bathroom. And then she was often left to running about, trying desperately not to make them late.

So maybe he wasn't taking any longer. Maybe she was just more aware of time passing.

She had an intense urge to go and beat on the door. But she held herself still, knowing that Aki was a little touchy about people bothering him while he was in the bathroom, and always had been.

The fastest way to irritate Aki in the morning was knock on the bathroom door, and while a part of her always loved to torment her brother-she had no interest in true irritation. Aki wasn't fun at all in true irritation.

She marveled for a second at how...normal her thoughts were. The knowledge was still fluttering at the edge of her awareness, but it was like a small bird outside a window now. There when she chose to look at it, easily ignored when she didn't. She didn't dare believe the mood would stick, but while it did, she was going to take full advantage of it.

She pulled her hair to one shoulder, and absently began picking the gold tangles out of it. The water shut off once more, but this time she didn't react. She focused on her hair, and absolutely refused to consider the possibility of him coming out in a towel again. Her hands paused a moment, then slowly resumed combing through the tangles.

The knob turned and her fingers twitched, but the action didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything because she wouldn't let it mean anything.

Today was a good day. She had already decided, so nothing would change her mind.

The door swung in, and Aki emerged fully dressed and rubbing a towel through his damp hair.

Aya chose not to examine the fact that she was partially surprised at the abundance of concealing cloth.

The emotion, of course, stopped at slight surprise.

"Morning, Aki," she said cheerfully, getting up.

He froze in the light of the doorway, looking at her in mild puzzlement. "Good morning...?"

She smiled at him, having to turn sideways to slide past him through the doorway. He turned his head to look at her curiously, and she raised an eyebrow. Then, with a little grin, she slowly closed the door, pushing him the rest of the way out of the opening in the process.

She leaned against the closed door and felt a moment of...strange fluttering. Then she bounced back, pushing away from the door and stripping off yesterday's now wrinkled clothes.

The bathroom was still hazy from his shower, the mirror still steamed over. She paused in her steps and had the...utterly useless and strange realization that she was naked and standing in a room that Aki had been naked and standing in, only moments ago.

She cocked her head and felt...calm. How odd. She shrugged, pulling back the curtain, and stepping into the still-damp tub. She turned on the water, a little hotter than she knew Aki liked it, and flinched reflexively back. But the water was still warm, from his shower.

She wet her hair, then dumped a palm-full of shampoo on it. She probably used too much, but one of _her_ pet peeves was if her hair didn't feel absolutely clean. Rinsing, then repeating with the conditioner, she piled the saturated, sudsy locks loosely on top of her head and grabbed the soap. She froze again.

_Aki used this soap._

Her fingers tightened around the slippery bar, as her breath shortened slightly. Not with unease, but realization.

The water was far too hot, she reached out and twisted the cold knob just a touch.

Better, better. The slightly cooler water soothed her skin. Then she stood there and stared at the wall, feeling the soap in her hand.

_Stop it, Aya. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking like this. Yes, he used the soap. Yes, he was naked in here only minutes ago._

_But he also sits in the kitchen chair, he sleeps on the bed, the futon. His parts constantly come into contact with yours, vicariously. Did you think it wasn't like this before...? It happens, when you share your living space with someone..._

_When you __**live**__ with them._

True as that might be, she couldn't help but be aware of it now.

_Well, be dirty then, _her mind mocked her. _Don't use the soap. Don't forget not to sleep on the bed, or sit on the chairs, or even the toilet. Heaven forbid you place your bare bottom where his once was. Why are you being so neurotic about this? You're acting as if he has some kind of disease. He is in __**love**__ with you._

_That's a feeling, not a virus that you could catch if you have too much contact with him..._

She started at that, wondering if that's how she really thought. That his emotions might influence hers somehow.

Because...haven't they already?

Feeling stupid, and uneasy, and still strangely enough, in a good mood, she took a deep breath, and slid the soap across her arm.

She washed herself thoroughly, unable to stop herself from imaging him doing the same. Watching the stretching suds circling the drain, she closed her eyes and turned her face up into the water.

_He stood here like this._

She combed her hair back from her face, rubbing close to the scalp to make sure all the conditioner had rinsed out. She hated the stringy, oily feeling of conditioner residue in her hair.

_He washed with the soap._

She imagined him running the soap across his arms, his legs, the clear suds running in eddies down the water-sleek lines of his body. He washed his chest, and she found her hands sliding down from her hair, caressing slowly across her breasts.

The image in her head ran his fingers over his nipple, not fully a sexual move yet, but just enjoying the heat and sensation. He rubbed the soap over his stomach, his navel.

It was just as the image in her head had moved lower that she realized her hands had followed the same path. She quickly reached out and shut off the water, snapped up a towel and began scrubbing it hard over her skin.

_I'm not thinking about that, damn it! Why does this stuff keep popping up in my head?_

She paused in her 'drying', her skin stinging and red. She tilted her chin down, and her wet hair swung in an arc to fall over one side of her face. Water beaded from the ends and trickled down her back. She quickly wrapped the towel around her like a blanket, and shivered.

_Why does it? I don't want to think about it, do I?_

Another image came forward, something that had really happened, but she had forced herself not to remember.

_That night last week, that night when I woke up..._

_I touched him._

Her fingers twitched, tightening on the damp edge of the towel. She lifted her head slowly, seeing only a foggy outline of a woman in the mirror.

_I did that. Why did I do that?_

_Why couldn't I remember that before...?_

She was shaking. These questions were full of too many insinuations. The fact that she even thought them was an insinuation.

Lying to oneself never works, she thought. But what's the lie? What's the truth?

_Do I...keep thinking these things because...I actually...want to...do...them...?_

A harder, more laboured breath, as if something had just reached inside her chest and wrapped around her lungs.

_I couldn't._

_..._

_Could I?_

On auto-pilot, she bent at the waist and drug the towel down over her head, wrapping her hair up in it like a turban.

_It's just curiosity_, she tried to comfort herself. _I'm trying to understand his feelings..._

Again, the thought came. Could she really understand his feelings, without assimilating some part of them?

_Have I already?_

She couldn't deny that something in her had shifted, was still shifting the longer she held this knowledge in her hands.

Habitually, her hands performed familiar motions, pulling on clothes and smoothing them into place. Standing before the mirror was a useless gesture, as the surface was still unclear, but with an absent frown she took down the towel, then wiped it across the glass. Her features were fuzzy, but distinguishable now.

Mirrors still slightly unnerved her, because part of her sill saw Ceres. Not physically, but emotionally. She didn't understand how their bond had worked, but Ceres had felt like both her 'mother', and her 'past self'.

Aya mostly didn't understand the mechanics of that, not when she tried to think of it through the filter of logic.

But she touched upon it with her emotions instead, her _emotions_ understood it. But not in anything resembling words.

_My 'past-self'. And Aki's 'past-self'...They had some sort of relationship?_

_They were...lovers...?_

What did that mean? Did it even mean anything?

She realized it had to have meant something, if one or the other of them had followed the other back to this plane of existence.

_If we weren't siblings, it would almost sound romantic..._

_Like one of my stories on TV, the tragically separated lovers, reborn and reunited._

_If Aki wasn't my brother...Could I...?_

She stared at the mirror as it slowly started to fog over again. She imagined a different world. A world in which she and Aki met by chance at school or the subway. The setting didn't really matter. She imagined all the positive and negative qualities about her brother, and tried to place them in a body that didn't have her own blood coursing through it.

She closed her eyes, and pushed at the image, trying to form such a picture in her mind.

_He's serious. And playful._

_Smart. And sarcastic._

The way he sipped his tea, careful and slow. The way he looked at her sometimes, when she was trying to explain a point to him-as if he were lost in the dark and trying to follow her voice out. And that moment when he would finally grasp what she was trying to say, and his eyes brightened with understanding. And amusement.

How he could laugh at her, and himself, and not be cruel about it.

The way he tilted his head down when he was really concentrating, and his blonde bangs fell over his right eye.

That shallow curve of his back...

She blinked, the hazy image in the mirror doing the same. It took her a long moment to remember why she was doing this. Her cheeks felt hot, and she lifted her hands to them, pressing down gently. Her hands seemed awfully cold in comparison.

_The truth is_, she thought weakly, _the truth is, I __**can**__ see it._

_Why some one might fall in love with him._

_In fact, it's harder for me to see reasons why they wouldn't._

_So...Aki and I, we could have...we could..._

She slowly lifted her right hand from her cheek, then brought it sharply back down. She flinched, as her skin stung and the dull slap of flesh filled the bathroom. But the pain did what it was meant to, and brought her thoughts to heel.

_That will never be. Whatever we were before this life, it doesn't change what we are now._

Now the question: did she want it to?

No answer. And that silence in her own head was more damning than any answer could have been. She shuddered. Took a hard breath. Stared at the grey mirror.

_If he wasn't my brother..._

_I would..._

Her cowardice made her spell it out. Made her taste every illicit word, though she refused to let it pass her lips.

_I would be so in love with him._

Spoken words are real, after all.

* * *

TBC...


	43. Separate

Separate

* * *

After her devastating mental confession, she was strangely calm. She finished dressing, combed her hair. And calmly left the bathroom. Aki smiled at her when she emerged, and she returned it quickly.

She didn't understand the twinge of guilt she felt when she looked at him. So she pushed it away. She had made up her mind.

( ) *

"Rei?" She had waited until closing, until there was no room for further conversation, and they were both out the door.

He paused, looking at her curiously, and just a little hopefully. She chose to ignore it.

"I don't have any plans Friday, so I'd be happy to go with you to Shiori's party."

He brightened, looking very cute suddenly. And still she didn't react. Didn't _feel_. "That's great! How about I pick you up Friday at seven?"

She hesitated, but didn't allow herself to consider why. She grinned. "Great! Here's my address."

They left with cheerful waves and goodbyes, and Aya stepped through the glass doors, smiling at Aki when he pushed away from the wall. There was a cold, sharp weight in her stomach, but she didn't allow herself time to consider that either.

"I'm going out Friday night," she said calmly.

He stopped in his steps, turned to look at her. But she kept walking, her eyes unmoved as they stared at the path ahead of her.

_You are my brother, Aki. And this is a truth you're going to have to get used to._

( ) *

Aki was sulking. He knew he was sulking. He knew sulking was a pointless gesture when there was no one there to see it.

But the alternative was throwing a childish temper tantrum. At least, with the sulking he was only giving himself a headache.

_I'd like to give that bastard one_, he thought darkly. That 'darkness' existing only to mask the hurt writhing inside him.

_I have no right._

_No right to feel this way._

_I have no claim on her, not in this._

He understood that on the level of smarts and logic. But on the level of emotion, he was kicking and screaming like a child. Knowing something and honestly feeling it were two very separate things.

So while he knew his jealousy was unjustified, he still couldn't turn it off.

Time was crawling. And distractions just weren't working. There wasn't a written word strong enough to hold his attention right now, and every absurd little song on the radio twisted right around to loop over his heart, and then pull tighter like a noose.

Aki plopped himself down on the futon, switched on the TV with a decisive click, and tried to force himself to pay attention to something besides the scenarios circling like vultures in his head.

It didn't work.

* * *

TBC...


	44. Truth

Truth

* * *

At precisely twenty-seven minutes past midnight, the knob to their door turned, and Aya came in, looking winded and flushed. She shut the door loudly behind her and tried to look sober.

Aki continued to sit on the futon, his shoulders tight, and his attention seemingly absorbed with the TV.

"I wasn't sure you'd be back tonight," he muttered disgruntledly. She frowned prettily at him, dropping her shoes and coat at the door. There were tiny splotches of wetness on her hair, indicating that it was raining, or given the dropping temperature outside, even snowing.

He didn't say a word about her messiness and had she been in full-possession of her wits, she would've seen the clear signs that he was in a mood.

Alcohol, however, is notorious for dulling senses. Or _sense_.

She shook out her damp hair, and swayed over to the futon, throwing herself down beside him. He stilled even further, staring hard at the TV.

"It was kinda boring. Rei kept following me around, like a lost little puppy." She shrugged, feeling so loose and warm, despite the snow falling outside. The party sucked, but the jello-shots were lovely. Fruity and sweet, and numbing everything inside her but the present moment. She wanted to sway, so she did just that, humming softly to herself.

"Rei," he said slowly, "I thought we agreed it'd be better if you didn't see him. I _thought_ you said you didn't even like him."

"I don't," she nodded, while still swaying, but Aki was far too upset to be amused by her antics.

There's a quaint phrase: _In Vino Veritas._ It essentially means, in wine there is truth. Alcohol gets a seriously bad rep. People seemingly change when they drink. But the truth is, all it does is lowers ones inhibitions. So, in essence, it reveals the truth behind all the masks. It makes one act on their thoughts. Their emotions.

It will make you temporarily forget your problems, as Aya was learning. But it will also lower your guard, spill your secrets...make you speak words that you think, but should never say out-loud. Hence, the _truth_ part of the phrase.

"He reminds me of Keitou," she said suddenly, and Aki looked at her in concern, momentarily forgetting to sulk.

'Keitou' was a name that still made him flinch, still flushed rage though his system until he shook with it. A brother of one of their friends, at their fifteenth birthday party, he tried to manipulate them into some suggestive act. Then he had cornered Aya and tried to molest her.

To be honest, that had been the true moment that something in Aki began to suspect a less...familial turn to his emotions. But he had been fifteen, and nowhere near being ready to deal with such realities.

A full year before Ceres emerged. Before the truth about their shared past had been revealed-and something in him had felt smugly justified.

If he let himself, he found an easy scapegoat in fate. That's why he chose not to believe in it, because he knew such belief would poison his actions. What else was one to think when you and your wife of long ago were re-born as twins? An old myth said that twins were reincarnated soulmates. He didn't examine such ideas too closely, because it was all just more fodder for his desires.

"Why do you say that," he demanded, "Aya. Did he _do_ something to you?" His fists clenched at his sides, torn between reaching out to hold her, and reaching out to shake her.

She blinked at that in seeming confusion, then she grinned, lunging forward to cuddle against his arm. "Aki is so sweet!"

He didn't feel 'sweet'. He felt angry and scared, and very uncomfortable with being faced with a happy, cuddly, _drunk_ Aya.

"Aya," he insisted. If that bastard touched her, he was going to kill him. Whether Aya was willing or not, he decided.

She rolled her head back on his shoulder to peer up at him with bright eyes. "Aki?" she mock-intoned.

"Rei," he prompted inflexibly.

She frowned, and there was more than puzzlement swimming in her alcohol-drenched eyes. He just couldn't tell what it was.

She dropped her head, her hair brushing soft against his throat and making him shudder.

"Do you know," she muttered.

His eyebrows slanted, the conversation was shifting again. "Do I know what?" Clearly she was worse when drunk. He didn't think that was possible.

"That is," she struggled, her hand tightening slightly in his sleeve. "Do we..."

Another long moment, and he was still yet to figure out what she was saying. Why was she hesitating? That wasn't like Aya at all. She never hesitated to speak her mind to him.

_Until recently_, he added dismally, then slowly relaxed. It was no secret that alcohol loosened the tongue, maybe he could finally get her to talk about what was bothering her.

"Aya," a deep breath as he forcefully calmed himself, as he forcefully pushed the business of 'Rei' aside for the moment. "Aya," a gentle, soothing voice. "What has been bothering you lately?"

He saw her head twitch faintly to the left when she heard him, then she sighed. Again, her fingers tightened in his sleeve, this time pulling it down slightly as she drew back.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you..." she murmured.

It was? Because from his side, it had seemed she, herself, had no idea what she was trying to say.

She pulled back enough to tilt her chin up and give him a direct look. She seemed particularly set on holding his eyes. Not understanding her sudden seriousness, but also having never really felt the need to hide his eyes from her, he held her gaze back. Waiting.

"Are you in love with me?"

He blinked. Stared. Felt his breath just stop in his throat.

"I...what?"

"Are you in love with me," she repeated slowly.

He gave her a weak, confused smile. "I love you?"

"No," she suddenly snapped, pushing up to her knees. She swayed slightly, but fisted her hand in his sleeve, steadying herself. "Are you IN LOVE with ME, Aki?"

He opened his mouth and...nothing. Nothing came out, because there was nothing in his head at that moment, but buzzing shock. His skewed collar was biting into the side of his neck, the usually soft material rubbing his skin raw.

Her hand tightened and he flinched, slowly bringing his eyes up to hers. Her face was flushed, her hair damp but wind-blown, tumbling in gold tangles around her shoulders. Snowflakes had melted into darker shades on the edges of her skirt.

"Where are you getting this," he whispered, not able to confirm or deny, or really think beyond reactive thoughts.

She shook her head. "You," she said firmly, but at the same time she wavered on her knees once more. She had to grasp his shoulder to steady herself, and he flinched again, slightly leaning away from her without even thinking about it.

"Do you know? I was at that party, but I couldn't relax. Rei asked if it was because I missed _you_. did you know? He thinks you're my boyfriend. He said that to me, more than once, and I didn't stop him..."

His breath passed his lips. Hard. And harder.

"I didn't stop him, because I didn't know. You're my brother, Aki. But sometimes...sometimes there's something else there..."

"Aya..." Her name. Not a question. Not an answer. It almost had the taste of something inevitable. It echoed through his body as if it were hollow, as if every last bit of him had been drained away.

Her eyes closed and she took a sharp breath, a tiny shudder passing through her hand as she clumsily gripped his shoulder. "That," she whispered, "That's it." She licked her lower lip, then slowly opened her eyes. "I can still taste it. Every time you say my name."

He swallowed hard, so very confused, but feeling a strange fluttering heat in his stomach. "Taste what?" A hoarse whisper, his fingers at his sides twitched, curving into loose fists , though the part of him that noticed was somehow outside of this moment.

"You," she repeated softly now, with that same destructive honesty. "I thought you were dreaming, and you were. You called for me. I...I shouldn't have looked. A sister wouldn't have looked. Wouldn't have touched. But I wanted to understand you, I wanted to see what you see..."

What was she talking about? He didn't _understand_.

"And...you taste like Aki. And salt." Her free hand rose, and he noted that it was shaking. She brushed it in strange lines across her cheek, her chin. "I still feel you on me," she whispered, her breath nearly swallowing it.

But his eyes still widened. He slowly turned his head, looked away. Stared into a distant, dark corner, and wondered if _this_ was a dream.

"Aki, are you..."

Because the things she said...it didn't mean what it sounded like...

"In love with...?"

She didn't mean what she was saying...

"...Me?"

Did she? His fingers flexed.

"Aki...Aki?"

[ _I would make her mine. _]

His eyes widened further, it was a strangely slow-moved sensation. Strangely numb. Everything around him seemed to be moving at a slower speed, while her words came to him from a great distance, as if they were passing through stone. As if sound had wrapped a wall around him.

Then something happened. Some sort of...gathering inside him, and on his next breath the wall shattered. It didn't fall or break, but seemingly just burst from the inside out. His thoughts were swelling and rushing like a river through his mind, too fast for him to damn, too fast for him to catch. A chattering static of noise that washed over him, dragged him under.

He snapped around, his right hand shooting out to snatch her wrist. He jerked, sending her stumbling with a startled breath and dragged her half-over his thighs. His left hand grasped the back of her neck, and in the next second he was kissing her. Hard and deep, and not at all like he had imagined their first kiss to be. But imaginings were not in his mind, neither were thoughts. All that was, was emotions. And desire, both washing in and out of him in pulses, and sweeping away logic and recriminations, and anything that wasn't the taste and feel of her.

* * *

TBC...


	45. Taste

Taste

* * *

She tasted like watermelon, and cherry, and a bitter undercurrent of alcohol. And Aki found himself instinctively tilting his head and angling his lips over hers in a new way, sliding his tongue deeper into her mouth and searching for that flavour was distinctly hers, beneath all the others.

There. A breathless groan, as his hand tightened reflexively in her hair. There she was, and he dragged her closer, needing the feel of her body against his to somehow heighten that subtle taste. He drew back for a breath, then tried a new angle, brushing his lips over hers, and teasingly flicking the tip of his tongue over them.

She made some noise, and he didn't know what it meant, but his hands tightened instinctively on her, sliding down to grasp her hips and lift. Then she was sitting on his thighs, her soft, smooth flesh pressed against the coarse material of his jeans as her skirt fell around her legs. It rode a little high, exposing her knees as they rested against his hips, and the new position put her mouth just a little higher than his. He adjusted instantly without thought, pressing up and tilting his head back slightly. And inadvertently pushing his hips snugly between her legs.

She gasped against his mouth, and he realized her hands were on his shoulders, but only because her fingers flexed, digging nails slightly into cloth and flesh.

She wasn't exactly kissing him back, but she wasn't struggling away from him either. He didn't know what that meant, and he couldn't think clear enough to try and figure it out.

This time the kiss deepened slowly, gathering speed as different passions pulled him in different directions. His hands slid from her hips to the small of her back, then pressed, pulling her close enough that her breasts pushed against his upper-chest.

She pulled away to pant again, and he thoughtlessly tilted his head, pressing lips and tongue against her throat, finding the taste of her stronger here. He moaned helplessly as his blood burned, and his teeth clenched gently, sending a twitch right through her body.

"A...Aki..."

And it was almost there, in her voice. She was clearly struggling to toss off sensation and think, and he couldn't allow it. She could not be allowed to struggle to the surface while he continued to drown. One hand instantly shot up and fisted in her hair, dragging her mouth back down to his, while the other fumbled with the hem of her skirt, then slid under. Without hesitation he dragged his hand up her thigh, then quickly slid his fingers to the apex of her legs.

She jerked, crying out against his mouth. But he didn't give her time to adjust, he didn't even think himself, just pressed his fingers deeper, feeling heat and moisture soaking through the thin cloth.

She turned her head away and panted, pushed slightly at his shoulders even while her fingers tightened and held on. She trembled, her breasts heaving slightly, and he opened heavy lashes to watch her. Her head turning helplessly from side to side as her hair tumbled down her back.

_She's so beautiful_. It was his first truly coherent thought since she neatly broke him with her question. His left hand slid a slow, sensuous path down her spine, to the small of her back, then he pushed down firmly, arching her hips slightly so his fingers pressed deeper against her.

_And she's mine._

He hadn't understood everything she had said, but he had understood enough. Somewhere in her confession, there had been an _admission_.

At some point, very recently, she had turned her head to look at him, and she had not seen her brother. At some point, recently, the _taste of him_ had been on her tongue, and it had been haunting her ever since.

And now she was hot and wet under his hands, there were words to be said, emotions that needed to be made clearer, and intentions that needed to be explained, but his instincts told him to stay on the attack. If he could make her come apart in his hands, if he could just make her reach out to him, then it would be harder for her to hide.

There was a battle here, but he felt almost jubilant. A battle meant he had a chance. Right or wrong, he was going to reach out for that chance with both hands.

And he was starting _now_.

Bracing his hand on her back, he gently lifted her off him, then lowered her to the futon. Her hands still clung to his shoulders, but he didn't mind. He wished his shirt gone so he could feel the sharp reality of her nails in his skin. He wanted her to _mark_ him. He wanted physical evidence of her hands on his body.

Her hair sprawled in lazy tangles, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes were hidden behind tightly clenched lashes. Her legs squeezed around his hand as he followed her down, drawing together at the knees, and he drew back enough to see. His lips parted on a low sound as he saw his own hand hidden under her skirt, and the soft material moving rhythmically as he touched her.

He really wanted to see.

Arching his wrist, he pushed the skirt up further, catching only a dim glimpse of white. Not enough. He moved his hand quickly to shove the skirt up, then brought it back down, scraping his nails gently over her to make up for the unwanted pause. Her hips lifted up, and her voice filled the room with her soft cry.

And he knew then that the touching wasn't going to be enough. He needed to _taste_ her.

It was only fair, after all.

* * *

TBC...


	46. Overcome

Overcome

* * *

Aya's mind swam with alcohol and sensation. Or better to say she tossed about helplessly on their tides while her mind sputtered words like 'don't!' and 'stop!'. And occasionally an incoherent surge of 'don't stop!'.

On the way home it had seemed like a good idea. Get the truth out in the open, and then they could move beyond it. She was sick of holding it down for so long.

She just hadn't imagined that 'this' was what was beyond it. She wasn't exactly certain how she had managed to go from confronting him, to being sprawled out beneath him on the futon with his hand between her legs. There were dots, and she knew they connected, but she couldn't seem to remember how.

Or much of anything else.

...

It was better than the dreams.

Or worse.

Her hands clenched on his shoulders, a subconscious response trying to telegraph something to her, but she couldn't decipher it. Was she supposed to push him away? Or pull him closer? She tried to push the feeling away long enough to think it through, but his touch deepened, and all the reassembling thoughts burst in her head again, severing the tenuous connection between reason and sensation. Her heels dug hard into the futon, and her hips jerked up on their own. Then her hands fell as he suddenly slid down and the touches stopped, and for one second something important began to gather in her mind.

But then his mouth was on her, hot and wet through already damp cloth. She gasped, twisting her upper-body slightly to one side as his hands fell heavily on her hips, anchoring her and pushing her legs further apart. She found her knees bent and butterflied, her naked thighs trembling as his fingers pressed against them.

He licked over the cloth, rubbed his tongue down and back up hard, dragging breaths from her in near-sobbing pants. Then his finger was pressed against her, rubbing again and again as his lips traced up to the elastic of her panties. Clever little fingers slid under, and then the quick flick of a tongue. A strange spasm shot through her lower stomach, and she couldn't sit still. Her legs tried to draw together again, but he determinedly pushed them apart.

Her shoulders twisted, her hands dragging at the covers. She wasn't thinking of escape, she wasn't thinking anything. She just _had_ to move.

He began sliding her panties down and his lips followed, warm, open-mouthed kisses that made her stomach clench and flutter. Her body curled up, and she wound her hands in his hair, pushing at him slightly without any true conviction or understanding to the motion.

But for one second the sensations stopped, leaving a strange throbbing echo in her body. And she shook, falling limp across the skewed covers. Her hands opened, slipping from his hair as the sound of her own breathing suddenly seemed so inexplicably loud to her.

Hands ran down her bare legs, gentle touches, soothing caresses. She stared up at the ceiling, patterns of dimming stars, and all the confusion ebbed away for one moment, leaving her shivering in awakening awareness.

_This...this is really happening...Aki...Aki is touching me..._

A sharper breath.

_He's..._

A longer blink as hands slid back up to her thighs, thumbs turning in and tracing teasing lines over her softer underside.

_He..._

A sensation like hot liquid, thick and honeyed, slowly pouring into her stomach from above. A heralding breath, and her eyelashes, which had been growing steadily more heavy, snapped open wide as his thumbs gently pulled her thighs apart and he placed a chaste kiss right at her centre.

It definitely felt different without the barrier of thin cloth, and she struggled slightly, thrashing within her own confusion to try to figure out if she should stop this. But when his tongue lapped slowly over her, she could only tangle her hands in his hair and cry out.

He groaned against her, and the vibration of it sent another sharp shudder through her.

_Is this...is this how he feels?_

She didn't really examine the thought, it floated on the surface of her mind, before slipping under.

_When he touches himself?_

_When he touches a dream of me...?_

_Does he feel this out of control?_

His mouth embraced her, teeth playing gently with her, but it was such a new and unfamiliar sensation, that she suddenly felt heat burst from her lower stomach, roaring strangely icy shivers right over her nerves. She moaned, it was the only word that could describe the low needy sound that seemed to come directly out of her throat, rather than her mouth. As his tongue and teeth worked at her, the sensation continued to grow, as did the sounds, until finally she couldn't bear it anymore, she sobbed and pleaded breathlessly, pulling at his hair, until finally he relented.

He relaxed, pushing up on his hands and knees as his head hung over her, as if it was almost too heavy to lift. His breaths seemed uneven and strangely cool as they hit her heated skin. Her thighs twitched from the feel of it while the rest of her seemed to fill with a strangely pleasant lethargy. A tiredness, and complete and utter lack of interest in trying to think coherently. Or even at all. All she wanted was to curl up in warmth and maybe sleep for a couple days.

A gentle, chaste kiss on her stomach. A fleeting, sweet kiss just bellow the hollow of her collar bone, where the swell of her breasts were still rising rapidly. Then loose, seeking lips covering hers, brushing and clinging and sliding lazily between her own.

A soft hand cradled her jaw, the edge of a thumb tracing over her cheek. And her eyes were closed as she tasted something wet and salty on his lips.

_The same...this taste is the same as then..._

Her hands still lay limp at her sides, and her lips remained passive and yielding under his, but she did not kiss him back.

* * *

TBC...


	47. Empirical

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! ^_^

* * *

Empirical

* * *

The night was long, even as it had only really begun when it was half-over. He lay, pressed against her side, with his chin propped up on his right hand. His left hand rested warmly on her stomach, reveling in the depth and rise of her breath. The reality of her existence.

Her clothes were scattered haphazardously on the floor, pushed and tossed aside, and definitely not missed. His shirt was gone, too, and he still wore his jeans, but they were unzipped and riding low on his hips. A welcome relief to not be pressed so hard against the biting teeth of the zipper, but they were not coming off. That was not a line he was going to cross until she initiated the touch herself.

But gods, he wanted her! His hand did a sort of skimming-glide up her stomach, feeling the smooth softness of her skin, the firm lines of her strength. He teased around the underside of her breast, then let his fingers trace a slow line over the full swell. She sighed in her sleep, and her nipples tightened. With warm eyes, he swirled his index finger in slow circles around the areola, the curious place where the sweet fairness of her skin darkened to a dusky pink.

_So beautiful..._

He leaned slowly forward and kissed the inner curve of her breast, just a bare brush of lips, a bare breath. Then tilted his chin slightly to watch her body ripple gently in reaction.

A sweet sigh, as his lashes rested heavily over content eyes, as his own body trembled in pleasure at seeing her react to him. Even subconsciously. He had been plucking delicately at her senses for awhile now, touches and kisses, humming with pleasure and mirth when he found the places, the caresses that moved her.

Tilting his head further, he closed his eyes as the ends of his hair tickled across her collar-bone, purring a deep sound in his throat when she mewled, when her legs shifted, sliding sensuously in the tangled sheets.

His hand slid to the left of her shoulder, bracing and tightening in the bedding, pushing up, he slowly lifted his leg across her, and rose up on his hands and knees.

He stared down at her, tangled hair falling over his eyes as his head hung low. His breath came slow and soft through parted lips, and he held himself still and lazy above her for several long minutes, imprinting the image of her so soft and giving beneathe him.

On the edge of his awareness, he knew this was a moment out of time. Morning would come too quickly, and everything would be different. He would love to believe that this was resolved, but the fact that it had happened so quickly, that she had come to such a place in her own thinking, without him even really suspecting...that told him more clearly than words that this possibility, already formed and realized, was still very new to her.

_She hasn't had time...she hasn't had time to sort out these emotions; she hasn't had time to...conquer her conscience?_

He didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel fear or anxiety dragging his heels down. What did it mean, that his conscience was silent? Was this acceptance? Or was selfishness on his part?

A slight frown furrowed his eyebrows, but he quickly pushed these thoughts away. He had _thought_ enough. For months now. Analyzing and over-analyzing, and holding his emotions back with the very dregs of his will. _She_ had been the one to breach this barrier between them, _she _had opened this door. Now it was his turn to walk through. It was his turn to act. The motivations behind his acceptance didn't matter anymore, not when she felt the same way, not when he had finally..._tasted_ her.

A shudder ran through his body, a sweet jolt that pooled low in the base of his spine. He slowly licked his lips, his eyes closing on their own as he remembered the unique aroma and flavour of her desire, the warmth of her against his lips, the wet smoothness of her skin, like soaked-silk stretched over strength. And how fragile she was in his hands, shaking with the touches of his fingers, rising and falling into the movement of his lips.

And her voice. No words spoken, but her sighs and moans a language all their own, speaking to his body in ways that even he couldn't understand.

His hands tightened to either side of her shoulders, his head hanging lower as his breath grew more shallow in memory.

He wanted everything, he wanted to _do_ everything, but he knew it was too soon. She had reached for him, but there had been hesitance in her hands, there had been just the breath of denial to her gasps. She hadn't reached out to embrace him properly, hadn't reached out her lips to his and offered kisses.

She hadn't once opened her eyes. He understood the meaning behind her reluctance, and that there was even promise in her unease, but it still twinged in the back of his mind like a bruise.

He wanted her to see him, and accept him, and even _choose_ him...despite the inherent _wrongness_ of their feelings.

Or maybe he should say the perceived wrongness of his feelings? As they did _not_ feel wrong to him. And when he was completely honest, they never had.

They had only felt overwhelming and inescapable.

_Does she feel the same? Does she feel everything as deeply as I do? Like she's drowning, and there's no escape? And that what's beneathe us is so dark...but comforting...like we would sink into warmth if we would just stop fighting._

_I stopped fighting long ago..._

_Is she ready to stop...?_

A dark fierceness filled him, even as it only skated on the surface of his gentleness and love.

_I'll show her. I'll show her the strength of these emotions. We can dance for as long as she wants, however long she needs to deal with everything, but I'm not going to just sit idly by anymore. She will be mine, and not in halfs like this._

_Not reaching with one hand, while pushing away with the other. Not only outside of her inhibitions or in her distraction. Mine._

He didn't shudder at the strength of that silent promise because there was something so very tender...and even innocent about it. His heart was swelled with such love, such affection, that it felt like something large was expanding and actually lodged in his throat and chest. And he alternately wanted to kiss her all-over, and bury his face into her breasts and weep openly.

Bracing on his right hand, he lifted the left and watched it hover over the tangled spill of gold hair. Then he shifted just enough and watched his fingers slowly trace over the line of her lips, full and yielding, slow breaths warming his fingertips. The dainty angle of her chin, that seemed so much sharper when she was awake. The soft hollow of her throat, that space right between her collarbones that seemed made for kisses.

Then her breasts. Settling back on his side, he returned to his previous activity of gentle touches, lazy caresses, running the edges of his fingers just barely over her nipples and marveling at the different textures of her skin. And the very fact that he was finally touching her.

And it was so very different from how he had imagined. So much...better...

He couldn't leave her side, he just couldn't manage to drag himself out of the bed, but he _needed_, needed to find his own release. His desire had been throbbing within him all night, a steady pulse of both affection and a deep heat.

_What I want...is to be inside her._

His hand shook as it brushed over the edge of her breast, another hard throb of heat tightening his spine.

_I want to feel her around me, as deep as I can go. Her heat, her desire, her pleasure. I want to tell her I love her, and watch her eyes widen as I spill myself inside her..._

He was so very hard now that he could barely stand it. Laying back down and burying his face in her hair, he took several deep breaths and slowly unclenched the hand he had fisted above her stomach. With another deep breath he pulled in as much of her scent as he could, moaning slightly when he realized it was so completely entwined with his that he couldn't tell them apart.

Then slowly he dragged his open hand across her stomach, then down her side, slowly pulling his hips back just enough so wasn't so fully pushed against her.

His boxers were stretched so very tight, peeking pale cloth through the darker blue of his denim. The jeans slid down just a little further as wiggled his hips slightly, wanting so desperately to take them off, but also knowing that he couldn't. Not yet.

There was a small spot of wetness on his boxers, and he rubbed his thumb in slow circles into it, feeling his breath deepen in his throat as bolts of ice and pleasure began sparking up his nerves. His eyes closed tightly, and he pressed closer into her hair, his whole body twitching as he scratched his thumbnail over the centre of that spot.

( _You taste like Aki. And salt..._ )

His whole body shuddered, another soft moan pulled from his throat as he slowly slid his fingers beneathe the elastic, pushing the cloth down with a practiced arch of his wrist and his breath shifting into a sigh of relief as he was finally freed from his cloth prison. His eyes squeezed down tight as he pressed his forehead closer to her, nearly pressing his nose against her cheek and reveling in the heat and scent of her skin so close to his own.

His fingers curved shakily around his erection, loose, but tightening steadily, fingertips rubbing little paths of stimulation and causing his thighs to tremble, the muscles jumping as if touched with tiny arcs of electricity.

He slowly drew his hand down to the very base of his shaft, took in a deep, full breath of her scent so close, then squeezed hard.

A loud groan filled the dim room as his hip bucked forward reflexively, the sound being echoed only half a second later with a soft 'hah!' as the head of his erection bumped against the hot, naked flesh of her outer thigh.

He didn't want to, but he found his heels digging in slightly to the tangled covers as his spine arched, keeping himself so intimately pressed against her side as a glistening line of moisture wept across her fair-flushed skin. Tiny movements, almost involuntary, rubbed him against her in small circles, spreading his wetness to cool over her skin.

Tilting his head slightly, and peeking open one dark eye, he continued the tiny movements as he watched the skin across her breasts tighten and her fingers twitch.

There was a flush high on her cheekbones, even as she continued to sleep. And her breath, while still deep, quickened just a little.

He would never get tired of seeing her react to him. Even if she was completely unaware of the reaction.

Maybe _especially_ if she was unaware.

Fisting his hand loosely, he drew his hips back and stroked himself, steadily bringing his hand from base to tip, and back again. The movement smoothed over as he spread his pre-cum over his own skin.

It wouldn't be long now, he knew, as he could feel that shiver deep at the base of his spine, his body tightening as ice seemed to pulse through his lower stomach. His hips were thrusting gently now, and he pushed up on his arm, knowing instinctively what he needed for that last little push.

Bracing himself to hover half-over her, and still keeping up his quickening rhythm with his other hand, he leaned forward and closed his lips gently over one nipple, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head when he heard her soft, half-muffled moan. He gasped against her sweet flesh, unsteady pants as he sucked gently, then drew back to swirl his tongue wetly over the hard nub.

Her fingers twitched again, and her legs drew up slightly, thighs squeezing reflexively together.

He heard a sound, this one louder, and he tilted his head up, tongue still playing with her nipple as he peered through his bangs to see her eyes half-open and staring down at him hazily.

* * *

tbc...


	48. Impel

**Impel**

* * *

"Aki...?"

A strange sense of lethargy and pleasure was lapping over her in tiny waves, as she saw the dim line of her brother in the dark, and felt the comforting heat of flesh pressed against her own.

She was so warm and sleepy, feeling as if she was floating lazily on a sea of endorphins. How many dreams has she had like this now? She slowly closed her eyes, then reopened them. There was a muted hum in her body, a sweet tremble of pleasure, like a purr deep in her stomach.

She reached out a steady hand and let it fall in a soft line down his hair, feeling so warm and lazy that she couldn't even possibly think of why dreams like this were wrong...

He let her breast go with a wet shivery slip, lifting his head up to peer at her through hot, dark eyes. She shivered as wet lines of saliva trailed over her breast from the nipple, the skin tightening further as his breath misted over it. Her fingers curled slightly in the edges of his hair, and his eyelashes lowered once, before lifting again. Pushing up with one arm, he crawled slowly up her body the last few inches and stared down into her eyes, his hair falling in tangles over his.

He didn't say anything, he quietly seemed to measure her a moment, then those lashes came down and he gently covered her lips with his.

She took a breath, her lips softly parting as he brushed sweet kisses over her. With a quiet sound in his throat, he slowly deepened the kiss, tracing his tongue over her teeth, and then sliding deeper in. Her hand skimmed back into his hair, curling the soft tufts of gold between her fingers as that lazy heat seemed to begin to simmer closer and closer to the surface.

This wasn't...it wasn't...

It wasn't as if she hadn't had this dream before...

Her hand flexed, nails dragging slightly across his scalp. He shuddered in reaction, pulling back enough to take a sharp breath before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, her jaw, slid his tongue along the seam of her lips then tilted his head to slip inside her.

On the edge on another deep kiss, she distractedly noticed the movement of his shoulder. Drawing back to get another breath, she tilted her head down and blinked when she saw why.

His jeans were tangled down around his hips, his boxers pushed down in the front to stretch across his thighs, the pale cloth framing the hard length of his erection. His left hand was wrapped firmly around it, wet, flushed flesh peeking occasionally from between his fingers as he stroked himself slowly.

Her lips parted on an involuntary sound as a sharp pulse of heat suddenly shot through her. Her whole body shuddered, her hips lifting on their own to press closer to him. While her eyes remained riveted on that sight, her lips parted and her breath hissing through in short pants.

It should have been the same as before, but it wasn't. There were subtleties that came into play when he was awake, slight movements, sounds. And most of all, his eyes...

Her eyes shot up to his with the realization that he had drawn back to let her see, to give her an unobstructed view of what he was doing. Meeting his eyes, she saw no embarrassment, just darkness and heat and curiosity, and a strange sort of invitation.

Her breath tangled in her throat, and her breasts were rising and falling in reaction to that so very direct look.

At her sides, her hands curled into loose fist, and she could feel the desire in them, the desire to reach, to touch. To feel him shake under her hands. She lifted her right hand slowly to his chest, then just as slowly slid it down. Timidly lifting her eyes to his, she watched his suddenly flash brighter with some emotion, before his gold lashes came half-down again.

His stomach caved and shuddered under her fingertips. She watched fascinated, as he closed his eyes in a look of pure pleasure, his breath deepening as his hand paused in its movements.

A long moment of hesitation on her part, then she moved her hand further down, hesitantly running her fingertips between his and marveling at the incredible heat and silken hardness of his flesh. It was like steel sheathed in velvet, but something warm and alive as it twitched under her touch, and his own hand flexed, tightening around the shaft.

She felt his eyes staring at her, but she didn't look, she watched the hazy shadows of her movements in the darkness while some distant part of her whispered that this was no dream. But it seemed like a whisper coming to her through a wall, real, but abstract with how very far it was from her other senses.

She trailed her hand down, then gently curved her fingers around his, squeezing gently with curiosity and some insistent low pulse of need that she didn't quite understand. Even as it was compelling enough to hold her deep thoughts captive.

"Aya..." Barely a breath, barely a sound, but it still spoke to her body in ways that couldn't translate into words. That soft pulse strengthened into a deep throb at her centre, her entrance contracting and relaxing to the rhythm of her heart beat, and her hand pulled on him slightly, as if trying to drag him closer.

He pushed slightly against her hand with her pull, a loud groan vibrating from her throat as she watched his hips shake, the muscles in his thighs trembling in a way that was strangely vulnerable.

And strangely impelling.

Her mouth went dry with the desire to feel that shiver under her tongue. To taste that needy sound of his on her lips.

She moved her hand over him, then pushed up on her elbow, trying to stretch her mouth instinctively to his as he hovered over her.

But he suddenly drew back, pulling her hand off him and evading her lips with obvious reluctance.

"Aya, no," he whispered hoarsely. "It's too soon."

She didn't understand him at all. Words seemed beyond her at the moment. She reached for him again, and he quickly caught her hand, his fingers shaking as they wrapped almost too tightly around hers.

Hers eyes snapped up to his and she felt a slight jolt of hurt go through them. Hurt that he clearly caught, because his hold instantly loosened and his eyes went liquid-blue with emotion.

"Aya," he whispered, then drew her hand up, splaying her fingers to hold open against his jaw. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" His voice was even softer, just barely a breath against the sensitive skin of her palm. "Let me..." Not even words anymore, just a warm movement of lips. She didn't understand what he was asking, but her eyelashes fluttered closed as he tilted his chin just enough and those soft lips pressed against her fingertips. A sweet jolt of sensation winded lazily through her centre, bringing a sigh seemingly from her very toes. His own hand slid over hers in a slow caress, trailing over her wrist, and the curve of her knuckles, rubbing his fingers gently between them.

She closed her eyes and let her hand grow limp in his, her whole body practically sprawling out and opening in unconscious invitation.

His hold on her tightened slightly, then he drew her hand a little further down, parting his lips against the tip of one finger and slowly drawing it into his mouth.

How curious, these sensations. She had never had anyone suck on her fingers before, she never would have imagined that it would feel so good, or the sight would be so erotic.

His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue a lazy caress, and each time it rubbed across her finger, she felt such a deep sense of breathless intimacy. Like he was touching her somewhere and in ways that were more hidden from the world.

He let go of that finger and moved onto the next, drawing that one deeper into his mouth and sucking slightly as he drew his teeth slowly over it.

She made a sound in her throat, something low and needy. He echoed it, closing his eyes as he drew her finger out of his mouth, placing a tiny, chaste kiss on the glistening tip.

Then he crawled up her body, and she went eagerly to his mouth, winding her arms around his neck and pulling herself up slightly. His lips slanted and teased at her own, lazy and slow kisses that grew into something deep and shivery.

She sighed at the curls of pleasure spreading throughout her body, the sensation of closeness and heat. She lifted her leg to curl over his and he whispered something into her mouth, his right hand sliding up into her hair and angling her head in a way that suddenly opened their kiss into something searing. His tongue slid into her mouth, twining with hers and rubbing sensually.

Her own hand slid down his chest, then under his arm, trailing down to the small of his back and stroking slowly up and down that enticing curve.

The move pressed him close against her, his hips between her legs, and she could feel cloth, and the hard length of him throbbing against her thigh, his wetness mixing with her own. It was a curious sensation, that made her feel restless, and like there was ice burning low in her stomach. She pressed her heel into his calf and arched her hips up against his, liking the way he shuddered helplessly in reaction.

She was just beginning to sink fully into the drugging feel of his kisses, when she felt his hand light low on her stomach, then push slowly down. Her eyes opened wide even as the kiss continued, her nails digging unconsciously into his back, right at the base of his spine.

Her legs were already spread to cradle his hips, so his hand met no resistance as he slid it down. She gasped, her stomach fluttering strangely as fingertips brushed over the sharp curve of her pelvic bone, her eyes going a little wild as she twisted her mouth free from his to pant.

Her hips wiggled on their own, pulling back as if trying to draw away from him, even as that throb deep inside her intensified, alternately making her rub up against him, as close as she could get.

His hand followed the move, dragging hypnotically slow over her quivering flesh.

"Let me," he whispered against her throat, his face buried in her hair and his hot breath tightening her scalp.

"Let me..."

And she jolted up suddenly, her mouth opening, but no sound coming out as his fingers pressed deeply against that small, hard little button at the apex of her legs. He held the pressure for a long moment, his other hand tightening on her, then he drew back and did it again.

"Oh!" Her spine bowed, and her eyes closed tightly, not able to fully process the sensations coursing through her. She had never felt anything like it before, but she couldn't think coherently enough to realize that. She turned her head into his, her cheek pressing against his jaw through tangles of her own hair. Her hand latched onto his arm, squeezing hard as if she feared she would fall. Or that he may stop.

His touches were gentle, but firm, testing which strokes made her shudder helplessly against him, which movements made her hands tighten and pull him closer.

Needing to be inside her somehow, he slowly dragged his face around to hers and sought her already parted lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth in a deep kiss before she could even register what was happening.

Thoroughly distracted, she barely registered the movement of his hand as it slid down, pressing closer to her and dragging skin over her most intimate of places. Not until a determined fingertip teased at her entrance, spreading wetness, before he tensed slightly, then began to push inside.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as her fisted hand suddenly pushed at his shoulder. But it didn't stop him. He tensed his muscles, pushing closer to her in counter of her retreat. He twisted his finger carefully, coating it with more of her own wetness as he pressed deeper.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it suddenly strangled into a cry as her own muscles seemed to go lax under his intrusion, and his finger slid into her fully, the heel of his palm cupping over her sex.

She struggled slightly, not pushing, but just moving as her thighs closed hard around his hand, her hips twisting shakily from side to side, only managing to push him deeper against her.

It felt strange to have that foreign length inside her, a little cool, a little...achy. Her body was squeezing around him, and fluttering, and she thought it would be alright if he Just. Didn't. Move.

But in the next second, he slowly drew his finger out, then steadily pushed back in.

It was easier the third time he did it, her muscles stretching slightly around him, and the strangeness...shifting somehow...

Her hands loosened slightly, shaking still, but not fully letting go.

On the fourth penetration, he rotated his finger slightly and alternately rubbed the heel of his palm into her.

"OH!" She was shaking, her head again digging back into the pillow as unfamiliar pleasure jolted from her centre and spread out. His finger didn't feel so much strange now, as it felt...

_Not enough._

She arched her back in a move that had to be instinctive, taking him in, deeper and harder. He clearly got the picture, because he groaned into her hair, thrusting harder into her, quickening his movements, and building on the persuasive new sensations that were now licking at her body.

It was too _much_, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. She felt out-of-control, and she wasn't sure she wanted this feeling. But at the same time, she was pulling him closer, lifting her hips to follow his hand when he pushed in.

Wanting more! Wanting to push forward! She _wanted_...

* * *

TBC...


	49. Visceral

Visceral

* * *

He drew back, rising above her to catch the dim shadow of her face in the dark. There was barely enough light, but it was an intimate obscurity, a shelter from the harsh light of day and the truths it would bring.

He couldn't think in words, so he thought in feelings. His desire spiraled higher, while it alternately dived deeper into whatever it was that had expanded in the centre of his being. There was a trembling in his lips that seemed to telegraph to his fingers, and his mind absorbed the sensation of her skin against his skin, of her pleasure escalating his.

The feel of Aya...

The taste of Aya...

To see her like this, after imaging it for so long, to reach unreservedly for her after binding his hands for months...It wasn't at all what he had imagined, she wasn't the image in his head.

Instead, she was something...amazing. Something pure and beautiful...and _real_.

Reality was scary, it held so much potential for disaster. But still, it was infinitely better than being trapped constantly with dubious wishes. Of being so focused on an inner-landscape that he missed the true essence of her beauty.

He had never thought of himself as a sensual creature, but with her...he became more than what he was alone.

He wanted to _do_ everything, _try_ everything. His cheeks flushed with excitement and pleasure, but he felt no sense of timidity or shame. Such emotions seemed useless when he loved every part of her.

He had never imagined touching anyone in such an intimate way, but he found there was something almost natural in the actions. Instinctive.

His mind was suddenly open to so many possibilities, and he wanted to experience them all with her.

And he never got tired of this. He never got tired of the healthy glow to her face, or the deepness of her breath, or the wet heat of her body that so completely warmed him.

And _that_. He was never, ever going to grow tired of that look of frantic pleasure and surprise on her face as she came.

The feel of her fingers clenched so hard in his skin, of her body shaking and fluttering and sucking at his finger as if trying to pull him further in.

"Aki..." Just a startled breath, while her eyes remained closed, while her fingers tightened and her palms pushed, and her back bowed, pushing him deeper in while wetness spilled around his finger.

A few more thrusts while he tried to prolong the sweetness of the moment for as long as he could, then she went limp beneathe him, her hands sliding down his arms, and her legs falling tired and open.

He was breathing hard, too, hovering over her. They both shuddered as he slid that little bit of his body out of hers, stroking a loving caress across her fever-hot skin. He rubbed his fingers together, marveling at the sticky texture of her wetness, how it coated his skin and smelled so strange and heady, tugging hard at the base of his spine to remind him of his own needs.

He was so hard that it didn't quite feel real. He could feel his skin drawn tight over muscle, the blood pumping like a second heartbeat, as tickling lines of sensation trickled down the underside. He was practically straining against his abdomen, shifting with his breath and shooting sparks of desire and pleasure through his nerves that were almost painful.

Her breath was slowing down, she was falling asleep again, maybe not even having been fully awake in the first place.

With unabashed lack of finesse, he wrapped his fingers around his swollen flesh and pulled once, twice, squeezing hard when the feeling suddenly burst within only seconds. He closed his eyes in relief as the ache began to abate, feeling the distinct sensation of release in a moment that was far too short, and alternately too long in coming. And not really there at all.

He didn't pay attention to where he spilled himself, his arm began to collapse in exhaustion, and with the last bit of his strength he suddenly shifted right, sprawling himself out on the bed and shaking tiredly.

Eyes half-open, he saw dim light glistening on her bare thighs, and felt the lazy pleasure twist sensuously within him. He barely had the strength to lift his hand, but he did it, sliding his fingers over the firm muscle and mixing their wetness. With a deep sigh, he draped his hand limply over her thigh, turned his face into the fragrant tangle of her hair, and fell quickly asleep.

* * *

TBC...


	50. Fugue

Fugue

* * *

To say that she had never felt like this before...would be tragically accurate. Her sleep was especially deep, so it took her long moments to even want to try to consider reaching out for awareness.

She figured she could happily float in this new sensation for days. Maybe ever. Slowly savoring it in pieces, taking it in and wanting only to make it a permanent part of her soul.

Did she ever feel this slow-moved?

Did she ever feel this warm and unhurried?

She sighed, and shifted her leg, sliding it sensually up, only to vaguely realize she was drawing skin over rough denim. This registered as somewhat odd, because the coarse texture was a direct contradiction to the strange...softness she felt in all her muscles.

Hazily her eyes slitted open, and it took her a moment to process the under-curve of her brother's chin. Okay, so she was sprawled across Aki again, and the denim was his jeans. Mystery solved, she closed her eyes once more and slid her hand up under her cheek.

Slid her hand over hot skin, the edges of her fingers brushing over what was clearly a nipple.

She went slowly still, her eyes opening groggily. She stared at her own fingers, kissing-distance, and poised limply over his right pectoral. Her middle finger moved, tracing slowly over the erect nub seemingly on its own. She heard his breath hitch slightly, just a short catch, and her fingers seemed to twitch, seemed to curve instinctively.

She froze, and her eyes snapped open wide.

_What?_

_How?_

For one split-second she was swamped in curious confusion. Then she realized she was completely naked, and confusion shoved into shock.

She shoved up, her hands snapping up over her bare breasts and her knees drawing tight. She stared down at herself wildly, her heartbeat echoing so loud in her head that she couldn't think beyond it.

_Okay, what? What?_

There was an explanation for this, right? There was a perfectly logical reason as to why she was waking up naked in a bed with her brother.

Who thankfully wasn't naked.

She glanced at him at that, a reflexive action to her thought, and started once more.

'Clothed' didn't quite cover it. Or _him_, to be precise. His shirt was gone, and yes, he still wore those sand-washed jeans that were clearly a favourite of his...Maybe 'wore' was too strong a word? The button and zipper were undone, and the faded blue denim was pushed low on his hips.

_Very low._

Low as in barely catching, and more _underlining_ his nudity rather than hiding it. She stared, wondering yet again if she was having some strange twist of a dream about _that night_ again.

A moment passed, stretching so long and thin that she wondered if it was going to snap. Her mind buzzed with nothing, to be honest, she wasn't trying too hard to poke at her memory anymore. She knew instinctively that poking at it now would be like poking at a sleeping snake.

Slowly she slid out of the bed, her body protesting the chill in the room in only physical ways. She took stock of the physical only, not attaching any mental or emotional connections to it.

She was naked. She lifted her nearby shirt from the floor and pulled it on. She was cold. She slid her feet into her slippers and hugged her arms across her breasts.

There were other things. Tender places on her body, like invisible bruises, only they tingled and ached rather than hurt. There were flaky places of dried...something. And sticky places still slightly damp with her body heat. And there was a strange dampness between her legs...

Cataloguing all these physical truths, and trying not to explain them, she went to the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her.

She hesitated at shedding her shirt again, her eyes staring blankly at the floor. Not understanding her own hesitation, she stepped out of her slippers and removed her shirt, folding it pristinely on the edge of the sink.

Out of the corner of her eye, the mirror was a quicksilver line of light. Her head turned mechanically, and she stared with incomprehension at the woman trapped within it.

She had wide, empty blue eyes. Blonde hair that fell in snarls to the small of her back. And pale skin brushed with rose.

Tiny flushed marks spotted the base of her throat, looking oddly enough like a thumbprint. She stated at one blankly a long moment, then silently moved onto the next.

On the inner-curve of her left breast there was another, a faint fingerprint of coral and cinnamon.

She slowly brushed her fingers over it and watched the mirror do the same. Nothing within her eyes moved.

Thought was beyond her at the moment, so something must have weighed her eyes down. Part of her didn't believe in anything outside of the mirror, so there was subtle confusion hovering over her face as she stared down at her own thighs.

Something was spilled there. Something had dried and tightened the skin. And another fingerprint marked the flesh, fainter, but still there. Just a subtle darkening of skin, a small space where the blood was closer to the surface.

It didn't make sense. And it didn't even feel like her. But she didn't push. If there had been enough within her at the moment to feel, she would have been afraid.

Instead she glanced back up and tilted her head, regarding her reflection as if she were looking through a window. There was a girl here, but she wasn't _Aya_.

She shuddered, then started, having not been prepared for the sudden sensation. It was sharp and too close, and she_ didn't like it_.

She wanted everything to happen to _that other girl_, while she remained safe in this cocoon of numbness.

If she could just hold onto this ignorance, everything would be okay.

There was a twinge inside her, like a hand pushing at her from the inside out. Rather than pushing back, she swayed slightly. At least, she felt as if she swayed. The girl in the mirror didn't sway, she didn't move or react.

She wondered if she were even real...

Was she real?

Maybe the girl was real, with all the thought and emotion, and _she_ was the reflection.

Her hand lifted on its own, and passed over that mark again. These weren't her fingerprints...There was a question to that, but that was fluttering somewhere outside of her awareness.

_Her..._

She twitched again, and again she started. Nothing came to tell her why, no feeling or thought or sensation.

She had come into the bathroom for a reason, right? What did one do in a bathroom?

She turned without difficulty and stepped into the shower. It was like the mirror again, she saw steady, slow hands reach out and turn the spicket.

Ice cold water slapped her hard in the face, and she jerked back, knocking her elbow suddenly into the wall. Seconds later the water began to warm, but she hardly noticed. There was clarity in that first shock of water, she leaned against the far wall and shivered, slid down the wall and wiped the warming droplets from her cheeks.

The water was hot now, a strange contrast between the veritable pool of ice she was sitting in. She found her shivering increasing, rather than abating, and it felt like it was stretching from deep, deep inside her. The water wasn't warming her, the heat wasn't touching her. Her skin prickled and stung, like feeling returning to limbs that had been too long asleep.

Water trickled down the curve of her spine, teasing touches that seemed strangely familiar, and she shifted in her huddle, wanting to curl up tighter, but feeling every move like a twinge deep inside her. Like an echo of some feeling that she had experienced, but couldn't process before enough to understand.

_I am hiding_.

It was the first thought she could remember having, as if she had just been body since the beginning, or maybe even just born when her eyes opened this morning.

This morning...

Her whole body cringed, drawing in tighter, as if dealt a blow. Her mind was backing desperately away from that thought for some reason.

_I am hiding. Why...?_

There was world outside of this cocoon of hot water and icy numbness, and if she thought hard enough, maybe she could break through to it. But the idea was foreign to her. 'Thought' was as unattainable as 'understanding' at the moment.

And as desperately unappealing.

Not that she felt enough to recognize desperation. But the word fit somehow. In the abstract.

She was hiding, yes. She accepted that thought as truth, despite not really feeling it. She stared at the steam rising from the water and waited for whatever would come next.

* * *

TBC...


	51. Half

Half

* * *

She was gone when he woke up. And for one long moment he stared in confusion, and wondered if he had dreamed the night before.

Too many signs contradicted that theory, but he still couldn't help but wonder in a sort of childish disbelief.

He had expected her emotions to be different in the morning, but he hadn't expected his to change. For a long time, or how it seemed, he sat at the edge of the bed staring down at his own hands, and fought back a strangely insistent urge to weep.

Weep. Not cry.

There was a different taste to those types of tears, a subtle flavor of despair. A broken texture, not as sharp as glass, but strangely cold and numbing, like slivers of ice.

It wasn't shame, and it wasn't regret. It was a curious sensation, and it felt...final.

He wasn't surprised that she wasn't in the apartment. He could understand her need for space to think.

Thinking, however, would not change the inevitable. It wouldn't take back words said and actions made. He wasn't in this alone, and she had ...reached for him.

He shuddered, and that urge to cry was suddenly gone. In its place was something...determined. The time was past for recriminations, for denial, and for self-doubt. Maybe they were never meant to be here, but 'here' they were. And maybe the noble thing would be to back-off, but he didn't think he _could_. Even now his body fairly shook with the desire to be near her.

It probably wasn't even possible, but he felt as if last night had _shifted_ things, physically, mentally. Like the very components of his soul had been rearranged. Or maybe...grown.

Something had definitely grown in him. And he felt so full on emotion, but at the same time, strangely insatiable for more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with his pants half-on seemed silly. He kicked them off and fought the urge to fall back into the sheets and roll around. Her essence and his stained these sheets, mixed together in some odd and distracting perfume. He didn't half understand this need he felt to paint their fluids across his skin, to smell, and touch, and taste.

But the half he did understand was so very compelling. It was the half that groaned when he stepped into the bathroom right after she'd just had a shower, when it was warm, and steam still fogged the mirror, and her scent was strong and all around him. It was the half that...grew hazy with lust and contentment when he saw his own seed tracing glistening lines on her thighs.

And oddly enough, it was this same part that had wanted to cry earlier.

He stared at his jeans, a hapless heap on the floor, his eyes flicked to a pool of shirt beyond. Habit prompted him to clean, to straighten, but he stayed right where he was and committed the sight to memory.

Last night's shoes were spilled over by the door, her panties not too far from her skirt, and one strap of her bra peeking from the crumpled pile of his own shirt, strewn across one end of the futon. The futon itself was in clear disarray, the pillow shoved to the floor, the cover spilled to one side.

The whole room seemed an ironic study of dishevelment, and he was hesitant to straighten anything, as it was all clear proof of what happened. It was chaotic, and quick, and passionate distraction: the very essence of their encounter last night.

And in that, he understood the implications when he slowly got up and began to put things back in their proper place.

Morning had come, and this was what had to be done. It was an ironic parallel to what he knew their relationship was going to be for awhile. Instinctive knowledge, but no less true. Moments of chaos and distraction, and passion, balanced with moments of order, planning, and affection. It would come easily to them, he realized, because it was who they were already.

_We've already created patterns..._

As she had hinted last night, they were already half-living like a couple. There were only a few more steps for them to take, but he also knew they were going to be the most trying. He had to lead her forward while she tried to turn back.

But he wouldn't let her retreat. Not now. Not when they were both so close to what they wanted.

He paused at that, kneeling on the floor and reaching for her skirt. _Did_ she want this? Or was he projecting his own emotions on her just to excuse his actions.

No.

Maybe a little.

She was wary, but she did want him, he knew that much. And she loved him. They fit seamlessly, and despite the sheer impossibility, he could really see how perfect they could be for each other. Not without conflict or flaw, but with the ability to find a harmony on a more emotional level. To find meaning and a foothold in a world that was far too slippery.

His hand closed around her skirt, adding it to the growing bundle in his other arm. But his eyes were elsewhere. Plans and determination interweaved in his mind, vague ideas that he hardly noticed, but pushed to the back to process later.

He stretched his arm out and plucked up her panties, fighting the urge to do something that was intriguing but distinctly...pointless now. A scrap of discarded cotton could not compare to the real thing. And he had tasted that fact for himself.

He pushed himself on quickly before he could get distracted with such thoughts. There were things to be done, and he knew it would set her more at ease to not have to be directly confronted with the clearly physical evidence of how far her defenses had been breached.

Not that he was backing off, but he wasn't going to cause her undue mental strain. Besides, with everything in place, he knew he would then become the centre of her attention.

And it was their roles. She courted chaos. And he kept the order.

And the habitual movements were settling his own ruffled thoughts. Making a decision didn't mean he didn't still have his own misgivings. It only meant his were more concerned with finding ways around her defenses and guilt, then messing further with ideas about his own defenses and guilt.

He had conquered that part of his personality long ago, so now it was only a matter of leading her though hers.

He straightened and dumped the old clothes in the basket, moving with the same empty eyes back to the futon and setting it right quickly the force of habit. It only took a few minutes, and he paused once more to get his bearings.

_If I let myself think about it-I still don't quite believe it. Aya...wants me?_

She didn't need to come right out and say it; it was obvious in the pure inevitability of her conflict. In how close she had kept this knowledge to her chest, and for how long.

_These past few weeks...all this uncharacteristic silence of hers...__**this**__ was what she was struggling with? __**This**__ was what was in her eyes the other morning?_

_I was right. About that look. She was –looking- at me. Seeing...Me._

He still didn't half fathom it.

He stared at the bed and hesitated in his actions. He didn't want to 'fix' the bed. He liked seeing the tangled mess of sheets, and the heady aroma of sex, and Aya, and himself that surrounded it. Again, he felt the urge to roll his naked body across, gather the sheets up and breathe deep as he buried his face in them.

_I wish Aya were here. I want to kiss her..._

But Aya wasn't there, and he doubted she'd be interested in soft kisses when she got home. He ignored the small, distant voice that wanted to add a question to that. He knew better.

With a deep sigh, he began unwinding the tangle of sheets and covers, and ignoring them with the same resolve he had ignored her panties. Pale scraps of impersonal cloth were not enough anymore. They weren't what he wanted. So he stripped the bed completely, down to its mattress, then set the basket aside to be taken downstairs later. After he had his shower.

* * *

tbc...


	52. Treading

Treading

* * *

Something changed when he got in the shower, some air of...level-headedness was stripped away, leaving him shaking slightly in strong emotion. He didn't want to cry. He wanted too much, all at once, that he didn't know what it was that he wanted.

_I want Aya. Here. Now._

He placed his palms flat on the shower wall and let the hot water beat rhythmically against his back. It was an interesting stance, with his legs slightly spread and his arms braced as if he were doing some sort of push-up.

Hanging his head slightly, he felt the water soaking into his hair, and dripping down over his closed eyes, and the heat from his body seemed to over-ride the sting of the water as he imagined Aya there, in the space between his arms. He leaned forward, resting the top of his bowed head against the tile, and imagined his face pressed against her shoulder, her skin warm and wet and his.

He didn't have much experience with sexual fantasies, but it wasn't hard for him to imagine the taste of warm water mixing with clean flesh, the particular feel of her breath against his cheek, coming harder and harder.

He shuddered as a trickle of water traced the curve of his lower back, and he remembered her hands on him, slow fingers seeming to follow curiously the line of his spine. He involuntarily pushed his hips forward, and wanted nothing more than to open his eyes and see her. However she wanted to be seen, just as long as she was there.

He wondered where she was.

( ) *

He lingered in the shower until the water ran cold. Then he lingered further. His skin was pale and tight with goosebumps by the time he managed to rouse himself enough out of his thoughts to get out.

The steam had already dissipated with the heat, so the mirror was clear. He rubbed the towel through his hair, and caught the image of himself out of the corner of his eyes. Staring down at a meticulously folded piece of dark cloth, sitting incongruously on the edge of the sink.

How contradictive, yet so very 'Aya'! To leave her things so haphazardously strewn about the room, then turn around and fold her dirty shirt so carefully. But leave it so clearly out of its place.

He didn't quite understand her mental paths, but he loved them all the same.

_You are perfect, Aya. How could I ever let you go?_

He didn't understand where that question came from, but it obviously showed where his fears lay. He pushed it all aside and refused to dwell on something that wasn't happening.

If there was a 'yet' deep in his subconscious, he steadfastly ignored it.

Draping the towel over his shoulder, he settled his fingertips on one neat fold, then shook it out. There were creases and wrinkles, and smoothing out a few he realized he had a couple mannerisms of his own that were contradictive. Like attempting to smooth out a shirt he was going to be dumping in the dirty clothes basket in the near-future.

His body shaking with the need to find her, to reassure himself that she was 'okay'. And the alternating caution flitting through his mind saying that he needed to back-off a little at this moment and give her the space to realize what exactly has changed between the two of them.

It would give her time to build up her walls once more, yes, he _knew_ that. But it would also give her time to think. He couldn't keep her unbalanced and distracted forever.

Sighing at the emotional acknowledgment of exactly what kind of battle he had ahead of him, he took her shirt back out into the main room and dropped it in the basket.

( ) *

He went downstairs and did laundry until mid-morning, staying throughout the entire cycle to make sure no one stopped the machine before everything was dry, and piled everything in a wrinkling, musty mess on the dryer just to get there own things done quicker.

Not to mention, he was _guarding_. He had seen a neighbor on the floor below them once waiting for his turn while Aki finished pulling out their clothes. The boy had seemed inordinately interested in the sight of Aya's underthings peeking from the mix-match of masculine and feminine clothes. Since then the idea of leaving their things unattended had made his blood run cold.

Back upstairs, he dumped everything on the stripped bed, and began the tedious task of sorting and folding. A stack for his pants, and his shirts. One for her skirts, and another for her blouses. The sheets and covers shaken out and set to the side until he was ready to make the bed.

All the socks found their mates, which was rare, but pleasing. He didn't separate those, as they all got dumped into a corner of the same drawer.

He folded their underwear neatly, persistent in this, despite knowing that by tomorrow morning her side would a mess again. This was a habit she was likely never going to break, and he found himself not really caring. Maybe later something would grate on his nerves, but for the moment he still felt half-in-a-trance, and strangely indulgent.

He hardly noticed the atmospheric silence of the room as he completed his task. Though something twinged in the back of his mind as off. He wasn't used to being separated from Aya.

He paused in closing the top drawer, his eyes going sightless as his hands braced to push in.

_Aya...Where are you?_

Of course, no answer came, only a persistent strand of longing and unease looping tighter around his heart. He pushed the drawer in, returned to the bed, and took up the end of one sheet.

( ) *

The laundry was done. The apartment was clean and perfect. And now he had nothing to distract him from the fact that it was edging slowly towards late afternoon and he still hadn't seen here.

A persistent voice kept pushing him in the back, saying: 'Go, Now. Find her!'

Another held him back, saying, 'She needs time, don't over-crowd her!'

And still another sat worriedly in the back with the continuous mutter of 'where is she?'

All of them tied his hands with indecision.

There were too many 'what ifs' to torment him, so he barred them the best he could from his mind. He knew if he began on one, the rest would come tumbling after like an ever-increasing avalanche.

Ignoring it was proving just as difficult.

_What if..._

_NO!_

He pushed that thought right out of his mind, or tried to, as it clung persistently.

His knee bopped un-rhythmically, his fingers tapping along to his worry's erratic beat. Growing so tired of his own behaviour, he threw down his hand and got up again, pacing from the bed to the dresser, then back again. Keeping a tight, coiled circle, like a tiger in a cage that kept coming to the same restrictive bars, but didn't stop looking for a way out.

Time didn't change his certainty, but it was, however, increasing the fragmentation of his emotions.

And his worry.

* * *

tbc...


	53. Drift

Drift

* * *

Snow drifted in lazy gusts, sticking to her eyelashes, and kissing her with coldness. There was something eerie, but strangely serene about an empty park.

Lonely. No children would come here to play, not in this weather. Aya sat limply on an old, rusted swing, pushing absently with numbed feet as the cold and snow soaked into her skin. It didn't touch the knot of ice that seemed to be growing in her gut.

Everywhere she looked she saw ghosts.

There, on the monkey bars. A towheaded little boy was begging a little girl to come down. He was face-down in the sand-box as she went shrieking away in laughter. He was...He was...

He was above her, eyes dark with love and lust, as his hands learned paths that were never meant to be his.

Aya twined her numb fingers through the rusted rings of the chain, and stared blankly as feeble sun sparkled on ice-crystals.

The veil of denial had lifted. That strange mental-separation that had kept her subconscious subdued for so long. It didn't bring clarity. Her body alternately ran cold and hot. A strange sensation of icy wind hitting flushed cheeks. She tilted her head to lean against her knuckles, her fingers prickling uncomfortably between the muted heat of her skin, and the freezing texture of the metal.

The snow seemed to blind a moment, so she closed her eyes and listened to the squeak of the weathered swing. Back-forth. Back-forth.

The night had been...strange. Like it had been many nights poured into one. And she had allowed herself to be curiously led by action and reaction. Many parts were hazy and indistinct in her mind, drowned by feeling and half-remembered like some deep dream.

And like a dream, the details were blurry, while the 'feelings' fell into some kind of sharper focus.

It didn't help that the sleep she had achieved was haunted by the same images and emotions, twisting everything around until she wondered if she had maybe dreamed it all...

Or if it was all real...

Some moments, however, were far too clear. But they were odd moments in the whole of the encounter.

The sound of his voice in her ear, the words lost in the tide of everything, but the _sound_, low, and breathy, and stretched thin with desire.

The taste of salt on his lips, his tongue, familiar, but unique. And oddly addictive.

And the sight of him sucking on her fingers, the care and reverence in which he held her hand. The wet heat of his mouth, the sensual movements of his tongue.

It was the little things that seemed to shine the brightest in her mind. Like they were in colour, while so much else fell into shades of grey.

She really, really did not know how to process this. And what's worse, her mind seemed completely unwilling to fully approach the matter. Like, if she sat there and stared blankly, the situation might fix itself in her moment of intense inattention.

_Think, Aya. Think! You and Aki did all, but have out-right sex last night._

She took a hard breath, her mind clearing a little as it always did when she ordered her own thoughts as honestly and bluntly as possible. She wondered if others ordered their thoughts by shaking themselves up so ruthlessly.

_I did._ She answered. _We did. Now what do I do?_

Leaving wasn't an option, and she didn't even want to. This unease she felt-it didn't conquer the fact that he was Aki and she loved him.

_How cruel, to be so very trapped by emotion and circumstances. I don't understand this situation. I don't even half-believe it's real._

_And that's the problem, isn't it? I keep waiting to wake up._

_He's awake by now..._

Was it cowardly of her to sneak out while he was still asleep? In her defense, leaving had not been a conscious decision. Her mind had been blessedly empty, from the moment she woke up, until she found herself standing in the middle of the empty, snow-covered park.

And even now her thoughts were moving so slow, that it was like they weren't even moving at all sometimes.

_I've felt like this before_, she realized. _When Ceres awoke within me. Like something just fell apart, and I'm staring at the pieces, trying to figure out what they had once looked like whole._

She opened her eyes, stared out at the world as it began to take on new shape under the falling snow.

If she had come here to be alone, to figure things out before she faced him again...She was failing miserably.

She hadn't figured anything out. She was even more confused than before.

* * *

tbc...


	54. Heat

Heat

* * *

Standing in front of their door, it took all that she was to reach out and turn the knob. Nearly seven hours spent wandering a deserted park, and then the streets that circled their building. She hadn't settled, no answer had come to her. The only decision she had made was something strangely reflexive.

If the cold hadn't grown so fiercely bitter, she would have wandered the rest of the day, and maybe half the night, too. Though she knew now that it would not have gained her any true understanding.

The one thing she understood: she had no idea how to reconcile any of this.

The lock clicked open, but before she could push in, the door wrenched right out of her hand. She had a split-second to try and prepare herself, but it seemed as if she had no time in the world. Even seven hours hadn't been long enough. She didn't know what would.

They stood facing each other, the open doorway between them, and he looked as oddly frazzled as she felt. Though, as always, his presentation was more subtle.

Hands grasped his hips in a tight grip, and his frustration was written in that hold, as well as the up-tilt of his chin.

However, it was the slight slump of his shoulders that spoke of fear. Frustration and fear, volatile emotions.

At her continuing hesitation in the doorway, he threw down his hand, stepped right over the threshold, and grasped her arm, dragging her in.

The door swung shut behind her, and she jumped like she was stung then took a sharp breath, as she suddenly felt the door against her back, and heat surrounding her.

She was frozen through from her snowy wanderings-And he was so close, hands wandered in distraction and intent, as he seemed so completely focused on her, trapping her against the door.

"Where have you been?"

"Aki," she gasped, her eyes widening as seemingly searing fingers passed over her neck above the skewed collar. It was like fire on ice, and she hadn't realized how completely cold she was until he had touched her.

He was _still_ touching her. Clearly upset, and looking for injury as his hands slid over her shoulders, her arms. She felt as if she were humming under his fingertips, as if the combination of cold and heat had short-circuited her brain into just shaking and breathing.

"I'm okay," she gasped.

"Okay!" he demanded, his hands tightening on her and his voice falling fully now into his frustration. "You've been gone all day! Without a word! What if the Mikages had found you?" And then his arms slid around her, holding her tight against his front in an embrace that clearly bore new intimacy. He seemed to relax at the feel of their bodies pressed together, of her breasts squished against his chest, and the hard muscle of his thigh nearly pressed between her legs.

And it had the taste of something instinctive. Her eyes snapped open wide as he turned his face into her cold hair, the heat of his breath tightening her scalp.

"Aki, Aki...don't!" she gasped, struggling weakly in his arms.

His hands tightened for a short moment, then he took a hard breath, and let her go. Even still, he was so slow about it, his hands trailing over her arms, fingers drawing a shiver from her despite her best attempts at being unmoved.

One step back, and she felt as if she could breathe again. But only in short, hunted snatches. He gave her room, but he didn't back off. Slowly he lifted his hands and laid them flat on the door behind her. He leaned forward, his hip cocked in a purely aggressive pose. Relief had quickly shifted into frustration again.

She leaned against the door, pushing her shoulders into it slightly, and could no longer be ignorant of the blatantly sexual tone of his nonverbal signals.

Looking back, she could see them in so many situations now. Her hands began to shake as she slid them around her stomach, grasping onto her own arms and clenching her nails in her skin.

He tilted his chin down, bangs casting shadows over his eyes. "Are we going to talk about this?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice, steady and deep, but full of breath and emotion. And _force. _A demand for acknowledgment.

She wasn't ready. Whatever good her time alone had done, she still had not conquered this, she was _still_ not ready. "T-talk about what?" Who was that weak little girl?

He leaned slowly forward on his arms, and panic fluttered in her stomach. Without conscious thought, and in an abrupt move, she slid left and under his arm, hurrying quickly for the only door in the apartment that he wasn't blocking.

"Aya."

His voice stopped her in the doorway of the bathroom, between one step and the next. Right on the threshold.

"This is not going to go away, no matter how much you pretend." A soft whisper, a quiet statement. Not offering anything, or taking anything for granted. Just a bland statement of fact.

And it sent her emotions right into disarray with its simple truth. She stared at the shadowed shower curtain, her hand paused on the down-slope of the switch. She felt as if two different parts of her were trying to drag her in different direction. Like she was wavering on her feet.

She took a deep breath, flipped the switch, and closed the door.

* * *

tbc...


	55. Distance

Happy New Year! :D

* * *

Distance

* * *

It _hurt_. He knew it would, but knowing was never the same as experiencing. Such extremes of emotion, all at the same time. Fear and frustration. Relief and elation. Sorrow and...understanding.

He _understood_ her unease. He understood her attempts at retreat, how her heart was trying to close-off, trying to distance her emotions to protect herself.

He also understood how useless it would all be in the end. He was already inside, and no amount of wishing was going to change what they were to each other. On both counts.

He pushed away from the door with a heavy sigh, turned back into the room and just stood and stared at it sightlessly for a long moment.

Again, the random thought that he should back-off, and let them both pretend until this breach of heart, and moral fortitude was firmly behind them. And again, his emotions violently rebelled. The heart wanted what the heart wanted. It cared nothing for rhyme or reason. Wrong or right.

He was so in love with her, and what's more, he recognized the possibility of love in her. She was 'open' to the idea, even if her conscious mind didn't want to be.

_I didn't imagine last night. I didn't imagine her reaching out to me._

He sat himself right down on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. Stared at the curve of fingers that had always been familiar to him, but he now regarded as if there was an air of newness here.

_There is, isn't there? So much has changed, that nothing is quite the same as it was before._

This new world held uncertain terrain, but that was nothing new to either of them, not since their birthday.

These little reminders of relation and impossibility didn't bother him anymore. They only bothered him when he let them.

And he refused to entertain such doubt. If he wanted to get though to her again, he had to be firm enough in his own confidence for the both of them.

The urge to form a fist in determination sparked in his reflexes, but he ignored it, keeping his hands open and relaxed. He studied the maps of lines in both his palms and picked out the subtle differences between them. Then he heard the muted rumble of pipes as the water came on in the bathroom, and he wondered why he hadn't heard it this morning.

Would things be different now had he woke up first? For some reason he felt that they might be worse.

When he imagined her awakening...Well, he just couldn't do it. Even his had been an ever-tightening band of emotion.

It still twinged, though. He wanted to be _there for her._ He wanted to _comfort her._ He couldn't bear seeing her in such distress.

Aya always turned to him in her distress, always relied on him to keep her back from trouble, and pull her up from the situation when she found some way to fall into it anyway.

_But things are different now._ Her denial was going to feed directly into her wariness. The thought of so much distance between them made him quail.

They had never been separated before, excluding the weeks after their birthday (the hardest weeks of his life, to tell the truth). Somehow mental separation seemed so much worse than what had happened then. Because then he had known in his heart that she was missing him just as desperately as he was missing her. That she was thinking of him and wishing for him. And that was a connection all its own.

_She will miss me. She will think of me. I am curious to see which act she will choose to push me away._

Now he made that fist, his eyes no longer seeing his hands.

_She can push me away as much as she needs. But I will still keep coming back._

_I have to try._

He gentled the fierceness out of his mind, his eyes refocusing on reality. He sighed.

* * *

tbc...


	56. Asunder

Asunder

* * *

She had no idea what to do. She filled the tub with water to buy herself more time, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. Now she was huddled at one end of the bath, rather than sprawled out in customary relaxation. Her chin rested on her knee, her eyes staring blankly at the blurring drain while her arms held tight around her legs.

The water was especially hot, drifting steam up around her down-tuned face. She had been at the mercy of the cold all day, and if it didn't require more feeling than she was willing to give, it might have been too much. As it was her skin prickled and blushed rose-but hadn't it been doing that all day?

A shiver, and her arms tightened reflexively.

_I don't want to feel this_, she thought miserably. _I don't want this to be real._

It still felt as if there was a knot of ice pulled tight in her gut, and it was cocooning her mind from out-right panic.

Because she knew if she thought too hard about it-well, she had no idea what would happen. Something devastating. Something life-altering.

Hasn't that already happened?

She blinked slowly, tilting her head to rest her cheek now.

_The truth is, I don't know how to deal with this. I didn't know how to deal with his emotions in the abstract._

_And now they're real._

_To be honest_, came that voice that was always honest in her mind, _to be honest, you were uneasy, but...there was something else, wasn't there?_

_Fear_, she thought.

_Curiosity_, it corrected.

_Uncomfortablity...?_

_You were flattered._

Sincerity in that, though she didn't understand it at all. It was always flattering to be admired, but when that attention was unwanted-

_Unwanted, is that what that was? Completely?_

And nails dug into her legs, cutting half-moons into the skin.

_I...felt __**things**_, she admitted weakly. _But I wasn't supposed to. Doesn't that mean something?_

_Physical reaction doesn't mean anything, right?_

_Anybody would have felt that way, in that situation..._

_Right?_

The doubt in that question spoke volumes. What it said, however, she didn't know. She couldn't judge what was normal in this situation, because this situation was anything _but_ normal.

_I love Aki._

A truth. Easy to say, even now.

_I'm scared._

Another truth.

_Why?_

Silence within her. Her hands eased up in their hold, skin stinging even more as the pressure released.

_I don't..._She paused, then tried again, realizing her fears as she tried to order them into words. _I don't want this to change things._

_Things have already changed. Dig deeper._

Her shoulders drew in slightly. _I don't want this to come between us._

_Close, but what else?_

Eyes closed as something...young and lost chased through her. _I don't want to lose my brother._

_A curious statement. How do you mean? Is he going to leave you?_

_No..._

_Will you leave him if he can't let this 'love' go?_

_No..._

_Will you force yourself to hate him?_

_NO!_

_Then how do you mean?_

She hesitated at that, not knowing how to answer that question. Her first answer was true, but she couldn't explain what it meant, even to herself. How strange, to feel the truth in an answer, but not understand the emotions behind the words. Especially when those emotions were her own.

_Forget that_, her conscious instructed calmly. _Let's move on to something else._

She really didn't want to, but her thoughts were moving on regardless. Water dripped from the faucet, she stared at it blankly, and watched the drop clinging steadily, increasing until it couldn't hold on any more. She heard it fall and hit with a strange quality that seemed to echo. She waited with an empty head-space for the next thought to come and fill her. Only the ends of her blonde hair were damp, and the tapered strands clung determinedly to her neck and back. She hardly noticed. One lock had swept over her shoulder and trailed through the searing water.

_You wondered about the way he made you feel last night..._

It wasn't framed as a question, so she regarded the statement passively. Like it was something that had happened to somebody else.

Her mind was just as blunt and ruthless as she was, however. _What did you feel?_

_What did I feel_, she wondered. It was so...strange. everything happened so quickly, and it seemed that she had just been swept irresistibly along.

_A dream_, she thought blankly. _Everything felt like a dream._

_How so?_ The question repeated firmly. And she actually twinged with frustration, not knowing how to put her feelings into words.

_It just...flowed._

Even to herself it didn't make sense.

_Flowed?_

_Together, _she elaborated. _Emotions, images, sensations-it all mixes in my mind. Growing blurry. Sharpening. It rises and falls, but it never stopped moving. I couldn't..._

A deep breath, expanding her breasts against her thighs.

_I couldn't tell when I was asleep. And when I was awake..._

_But what did __you__** feel**__?_

She flinched, drawing her knees tighter against her and hiding her eyes.

_I don't understand._

_You do._

She mentally shied away from that question, suddenly wishing she had a more passive personality.

_What I felt...what I felt..._

_Why are you hesitating? You know the answer. Forget all the moral-ties and just answer already!_

A sharp command, and her shoulder twitched, causing a tiny ripple to chase across the otherwise calm water.

_Okay! Okay, already! I felt...what he did...it was...it felt..._

She curled tighter, her stomach clenching and roiling with distant emotion. Maybe fear. Maybe dread. Maybe a dozen feeling all rolled into one.

_It felt good._

A plain statement. She lifted her eyes slowly to stare over her knees.

_How he touched me...so that's how pleasure feels..._

_-So addictive_, came the random whisper from deep within her being. _It dragged me under so fast that I didn't even know what I was doing. And I didn't want to stop._

She shivered in the water as her body clearly remembered this new feeling, remembered it in ways that had nothing to do with thought. And in that moment, the silence of the bathroom seemed to stifle. The breath that escaped her lips was far too loud, and coming quicker than she thought it should.

The rhythm of breathing was something that came naturally-so how come she was having such difficulty with it?

And how come it was so damn loud?

She held completely still in the water, and felt as if the oppressive silence was oddly..._hunting_ her. Her spine thrummed with tension. So stiff that she felt as if movement might even snap it in two.

Into that destructive silence, came that inner-voice again.

_That is physical emotion. How did you __**feel**__?_

_You are persistent_, came her despairing rejoinder.

_I am you._

A fair enough statement. Explanation and warning. Aya let the uncomfortable question distract her from the loud, quickness of her breath. She was going to hyperventilate if she wasn't careful, and drowning in the bathtub-what a sad way to go.

_But convenient. I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore._

She didn't like the morbidity of her own thoughts, so she firmly pushed them away and focused on the prior question. She didn't want to, but there were some things you did not allow yourself to dwell on. Not if you wanted to retain your sanity.

Bitter laughter strangled in her throat, wanting to escape, but she held it back determinedly.

_Sanity? Is that what you call last night?_

Her nails clenched again in her skin. _I don't know what to call last night. I don't understand how this happened._

_Did you really think you could walk so close to the edge...and never fall?_

She didn't like the implications of that question, so she pushed it away, too.

She didn't fall.

_One question or the other, you need to answer for yourself. Before you see him again._

A startled thump to her heart, as if seeing him again so soon hadn't occurred to her. The close confines of their life wasn't giving her the thinking space that she needed.

_I can't escape him_, it was another plain statement, full of hard truth and subtle pain. Pain because she hated to think such a thing about her own brother. Her beloved Aki, bully and best friend, all rolled into one. A strange combination, but essential to be sure.

_And lover?_

A drop of water again echoed through the bathroom, and the silence began to rise around her once more. She quickly sent a force of negating emotions to the forefront of her mind, hating how her brain seemed so eager to torment her with things she'd rather just forget.

_Aki is not my 'lover'._

_I love Aki. But it's not like that._

_It's –not-?_

_No!_

_You love him. You did all –but- make love to him last night._

_No..._

_The only reason you're still a virgin right now is because –he- is the one who didn't take it that far. You didn't stop him. You let him spread your legs, let him put his fingers and tongue inside you, more than once._

_Do you really think you would have stopped him if he decided to take you completely...?_

She was panting again, a wild feeling building inside, as if she desperately wanted to escape her own skin.

_You wanted him inside you. In every way._

_No! I didn't!-I don't! I..._

Tears, finally. Real tears, real emotion, washing away protective apathy, tearing down the walls her mind had built to try and protect her from this new reality. She shook, her arms tightening hard around her legs, and her teeth sinking into her own skin to try and contain her sobs.

She couldn't bare the silence anymore, or the harsh stone of her own breath, she shoved her self up and slammed on the hot water, slapping her other hand over her mouth and biting down hard to stifle a sharp sob.

Now that she could feel, it was as if there wasn't any room left in her to breathe. At the same time there were so many emotions, hitting her all at once, that it was a strange numbness all its own. Like her mind couldn't focus on just one, so it was standing there dazed while they all whirled around her.

The hot water beat down on her head, soaking into her hair and streaming it in tangled locks over her eyes. She kicked out the stopper and the pipes groaned at the sudden rush of water draining away. She laid her hands flat on the tile, bowed her head and..._pushed_. Pushed at the wall as if she was trying to force her way through it. Her arms shook, and her nails bent back as she dug them hard into the tile. Harder and harder.

She tried to swallow her tears down, but it wasn't working. She wanted to kick and scream and break things, and the desire telegraphed into the violent shaking of her body. She bit her lip and forced her nails harder against the wall, knowing instinctively that if she could just focus on that physical pain, then the storm in her head might calm.

Because she couldn't let it out.

She couldn't scream. Or hit the wall.

Or give him any sign that she wasn't okay.

_That she was feeling this._

And she couldn't bear the thought of that terrible wish getting free for even a second.

It wouldn't be okay, she was ashamed to even feel it. Even though, on a psychological level she understood that it wasn't the 'urge' itself, but the motivations that were behind it that were important.

But she was too far gone into her emotions at the moment to remember that.

For too long she had been like a house with the storm raging around her. Now the winds were too strong, and the roof was gone, and the walls were falling, and she was ripped open bare to the mercy of the elements.

Vulnerable.

At the same time, she was the storm beating down her door. Ripping herself apart with her shame, and guilt, and above all confusion.

As soon as she named those emotions, she could feel them. Focusing on one made it stronger than the others, and she could hardly bare it. She had never been good at shame or guilt, at expressing or experiencing it, and so she found herself at a complete loss with no working tools at hand.

And threading through it all was fear. It wore a mask of anger, of blame, but all anger is a mask. Behind that fierce wish to hurt, to tear asunder, was a scared little girl, wanting only to find some sort of shelter from the falling rain.

She couldn't hurt her brother, she wasn't wired that way. So that left only herself.

If she could place all the blame at his door, then maybe she could find the perfect scapegoat in him. But she wasn't so blind that she didn't see her own fault in this. She may not have cut this path through the woods, but she had set her feet on it of her own free will.

Even if part of her hadn't understood that it may lead her here, she couldn't deny that another part of her was all too aware.

She just hadn't wanted to look at it. Hadn't wanted to see where her feet were leading her.

The question now was: Why?

She stood under the stinging beat of hot water and pushed that question at her subconscious, too upset at the moment to consider implications or consequences.

_You know why_, was its soft return, no less aggressive with it quietness.

_Why do you keep saying that? If I understood any of this, I wouldn't be so lost..._

She was getting angry with herself. With her helplessness. Her lack of clarity. With her inability to just push it all away and ignore it.

She would ignore it if she could.

_And that is why you are having such difficulty with dealing with this. You keep sabotaging yourself. You try to sort it out while at the same time you are pushing it all away with both hands. You can't do both._

She was staring at the tile, staring at the water as it trickled in lines between the interlocking grooves.

_I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to process this. How to let go of my denial. I don't know how._

_Just stop._

_It's not that easy._ Her hands tightened into fists and she realized she wasn't crying anymore, that she had stopped pushing at the wall, that her breath was slow and even. She couldn't remember her anger calming, but somewhere along the line, a strange staring had taken over her eyes, had stretched deep into her being until most of her was nothing more than slow thoughts and even slower breaths.

_It's not that easy..._It echoed tiredly in her mind. _I wish it was._

But she really, really didn't.

* * *

tbc...


	57. Reason

Reason

* * *

The shower slammed on, and he flinched, having let her silence stretch all the way into him. There was something sharp and abrupt about the sound, and a shudder ran through him as his mind was only too eager to offer him an echo of her emotions. He wasn't stupid, he knew what it was like trying to deal with something like this. To be a puppet of one's emotions. There was anger in the sharp twist of the spicket, almost reproach in the sudden groaning of the pipes.

He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to comfort her. But he knew his presence would not be appreciated right now. Her fear wouldn't let her appreciate it, even if it would give her a leg of support that she so desperately needed.

He sat on the edge of the bed as if he was waiting, hands open and palm-up on his thighs. In a way, he was waiting. Not for her to come out, he knew she would hide herself from him for as long as she could. But for his next actions to come to him.

The path was open before him, but now he needed to know the length and stride of the steps he was going to take. Too fast, and she would run. Too slow, and she would hide. He needed to find a balance, especially now that hers was so off-kilter.

He wanted to comfort her. He wanted her to hear him and see him. But more importantly, to listen to him and _love him_. As a woman, as a sister, he didn't care, as long as she reassured him that her feelings were real, that she wasn't going to try to push him out of her heart.

She wouldn't succeed, but that wasn't the point. It would hurt them both if she even tried. And he wanted to comfort her.

_I would save you from this confusion if I could, Aya. But I can't just let you go now that I'm so close. Now that you've let me so close._

_Don't fool yourself into thinking that you didn't. You came to me last night and you reached out to me. Maybe you didn't quite understand what you were doing, I don't think I do either, but that doesn't change the fact that you did do it._

'_Right' and 'wrong'...ideas like that don't really exist. Not concretely. I can't help the way I feel, and I've accepted that. You can't help it either, but you haven't yet realized that._

_It breaks something, to admit the truth. But it destroys the soul to live in denial._

_Your soul is too precious to me...you are too precious to me..._

He wanted to get up and pace, but he sat still and loose on the edge of the bed.

_I wish I knew how to make this easier..._

_I wish I knew the words to say that would comfort you..._

_But there are no words, no easy ways._

It was torture, sitting there while his emotions kept pushing him to go to her. He wanted to wipe her confusion away, but only she could conquer that beast.

_Don't take too long, Aya_, he thought, finally allowing his hands to tighten.

_Please don't take too long.

* * *

_tbc...


	58. Somniloquy

Somniloquy

* * *

The water ran cold for a long time before she forced herself to get out. Even still she stood for long moments on the warm bathroom rug, staring and sightless, with her hands open and limp at her sides. She stood there long enough to drip-dry, for her hair to begin to lighten at her temples where it always dried first.

She told herself it was a switch, right now she was stuck on 'off', but soon she would flip the switch, and she would be herself again. And she would move.

In a moment.

A moment came and went. The marks hadn't really faded, especially his 'thumbprint' on the curve of her breast.

'Birthmark', she thought, thinking that's what it looked like, with its dusky rose colour that started deep then faded into her skin. She remembered her strange thoughts earlier, but half as if in a dream. She remembered wondering if she were real, if she had existed before...or if she had been born today.

'Birthmark' she thought, and a strange half-smile tilted her lips. It wasn't a smile at all. It was another one of those things that happened that she didn't understand at all.

There were so many of those things now.

The cold water had washed something away. Her tears had been sharp and hard, as if she were crying out broken pieces of herself. She wondered if those pieces were gone. She _wished_ they were gone. She could stand being a hollow shell for a little while.

_I'm so tired._

Emotions were so exhausting, she wanted only to crawl into bed and sleep for awhile, until this passed and she was 'normal' again.

A bitter thought, _I wonder who's turn it is in the bed?_

That strange non-smile returned, unexplained by the coin-deadness of her eyes. _We both –slept- in the bed last night, so which turn counts?_

Sarcasm, but right beneathe it was something hurt and scared, a little girl's voice repeating 'I don't want to'.

Would it smell like him?

Like her?

Like _them_?

_I don't want to sleep in the bed._

She didn't want to leave the bathroom either. She didn't want to have to see him yet. She didn't have to deal with anything if he wasn't there.

She urged her feet to move, to take her forward to her robe, but they didn't move. She had to have been standing there for twenty minutes now. Had to have been in the shower for over an hour. She couldn't stay indefinitely.

Her head turned slowly to the door, and she wondered if he was waiting for her. If he had things to say. She wondered if she could even listen.

At that moment she didn't think she could bare to even hear his voice. It wasn't hate. Or anger.

Fear.

It was definitely fear.

He wasn't going to hurt her. She knew that, felt that. So where was this fear coming from?

_Are you willing to answer that question now?_

She did answer. Her silence was her answer.

_You are going to have to face him sometime. Since when are you such a coward?_

She sighed. _I'm brash, but I'm __**not**__ brave. So many people think one leads to the other._

_Then forget courage, how about logic? You __**can't**__ stay in the bathroom forever._

She took a step, and then another. Her bare feet left the damp rug and she slid her faded robe from the hook. It settled around her with a sense of familiarity. An odd enough thing when nothing around her felt familiar.

Habit had her applying her usual after-bath lotion, led her hands through the motions of brushing her teeth. She combed her hair in front of the mirror until it was half-dry, and half-gleaming like yellow silk.

Then it was all a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and leaving the bathroom. She stood in front of the door and stared at it.

What if he-

She forced that thought right out of her mind.

What if he-

She forced that one out, too.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn't reach for the knob.

_Open the door_, she demanded at herself.

Two sides of her were trying to push past each other, so she stood utterly still in place.

_Open the Door._

Her hand half-lifted, hesitated in the empty space between reaching and resting.

_Open. The. Door._

Another inch, her fingers brushed against the knob. They didn't curve or grasp.

_Open the damn door_, she snapped at herself, fed up with her own fear.

Her hand turned and jerked, pulling the door in so roughly that the cooler air of the bedroom hit her face like a slap. She froze in the doorway in wariness, her eyes darting around the room even as her defenses ruffled.

_It's Aki_, she wanted to shout at herself, _you don't have to act like he's going to attack you._

_He won't hurt me_, she conceded, _but he isn't exactly safe anymore, is he?_

_Do you think he's going to –rape- you, or something?_

She scoffed at that. _Of course not._

_Then why act like this?_

Silence. He wasn't in the bedroom, but she didn't relax.

_I see._

If she could turn her sight inward, she would be staring at her inner voice in dull-eyed wariness at the slow dawning of comprehension to its tone.

_He's not here_, she commented lack-lusterly, wary of her own subconscious now. _Where is he?_

_You're just as afraid of yourself as you are of him. More so, actually._

_Where is he? _She repeated, not a question anymore, but an emotional over-ride to that other statement. She wasn't going to acknowledge it.

It didn't push, but it backed down with a feel that was close to indulgent. The statement was already made, whether she dealt with it now, or later, it was there, waiting. Inescapable.

_Is he in the kitchen_, it then prompted, sweet, 'helpful'.

She sighed and slumped, glancing at the small kitchenette and pointing out to herself that he was not there.

He wasn't in the apartment, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Grateful to not have to deal with him yet.

Wary at even more of a split from the norm. He didn't leave without telling her where he was going first.

_And neither do you. But you did. Maybe he's wary of confrontation, too._

_No, he's not_, she corrected that lie. _He's clearly over-ready to 'deal' with this. He's just being sensitive to my emotions and giving me a little space._

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at that, her eyes growing hazy.

_If you weren't my brother, Aki-_

She snapped down on that thought, no longer so ignorant to the subtle danger in it. It was thoughts like that that had gotten her into trouble.

_It was a curiosity, a need to understand, that got me in trouble. He felt this way, but I'm the one who wouldn't quit poking at his feelings. I should have put it all behind me and ignored it for as long he let me._

_Curious phrasing..._

_I'm not stupid, not really. Not to that extent, anyway. Ignorance would have gotten me only so far. He would have slipped up eventually._

_So certain of that. Maybe this would have blown over with you none the wiser._

_Pretty to think so, but whether his emotions would have changed again with time or not...doesn't change the fact that he sees me this way, now. That isn't something that can be taken back..._

_And don't act coy_, she sighed, sitting herself on the edge of the bed and staring down at her open hands. _I know you don't mean that. You are only playing Devil's Advocate._

That tilted smile again.

_Isn't there a rule against your own subconscious using reverse psychology on you?_

_Whatever works to shake you out of your denial._

_Denial exists for a reason_, she thought weakly.

_Yes, and it works to an extent. But you have to know when it's time to let it go._

_I'm not ready to let it go. Besides, what exactly do you think is behind this denial? I love Aki. But not like that._

_Like what?_

_Like...like a woman. Like a __**lover**__._

That word was difficult to think for some reason.

_How do you explain last night to yourself?_

Unadorned words, soft and plain, but with enough of a point to jab her in the lungs. Her next breath had to be forced out, as if she were squeezing it between fingers that were wrapped tight around her chest.

_What do you want from me_, she finally mumbled, not really looking for an answer. _I don't know how to explain it. I don't know what to do..._

And under that, the weak plea for it to just stop. Stop pushing. Stop attacking. She was breakable, and things had already shaken her up so badly.

_Hiding will_-

_Just stop!_

Hands curled into fists, nails biting palms. Her eyelids squeezed down tight as her breath felt as if it was a fist beating at her chest.

_Just stop!_

And then she was quiet again, tears stinging her eyes again.

_Someday I will deal with this. But it can't be today...it can't be __**right now**__._

_I need to breathe, all right? I need to just...settle back into my skin before I can even think about any of this._

How did you get your over-active mind to back down? Especially when it is filled with such urgent questions?

You move. Physical action is the only thing that will subdue the mind. But it is a flawed sort of therapy, transitory and easily up-ended. But it does work. For a time.

Aya got up and did what she should have from the start, she dug out her nightclothes, subconsciously searching for the thickest, least flattering pieces that she owned. Whether for armor, or not to torment him-she did not answer that question for even herself. Then she drug it all back in the bathroom and changed there. Hanging up her robe, her damp towel.

She returned to the living area, and realized he had robbed her of this defense as well. The room was clean and spotless, and there was nothing physical for her to focus her attention on.

_How would you have reacted had the room been in disarray when you returned?_

_Don't even start again_, she commented, turning into the kitchenette and continuing her fruitless search. She sighed, bowed her head as everything nearly sparkled in its perfect place. Apparently he had used the same method to wait her out.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

_All that's left...is to go to bed._

Her shoulders tightened again, her neck crawling as she became hyper-aware of the bed. As if it had a presence all its own.

She turned slowly and looked back at the bed. One corner where she has sat-the sheets were mussed slightly there. Every other edge was perfect and smooth. The pillow aligned at the head, the cover pulled tight and draped evenly.

A perfect, made bed.

She approached it slowly with small steps, though the distance passed far too quickly. Then she stared down at it and wondered how the world could work this way. Could keep moving, and seem perfectly normal-when it was anything but.

Her hand lifted, shook, hesitated. She grasped the comforter between her fingers, dug her nails in, and pulled. With a strange slowness and empty head, she drug the cover over, folding it in on itself and disrupting its unsullied state. Then she took up the pillow and placed it with care cock-eyed half over the edge.

Beneath the cover, the now exposed sheet was white and smooth. She caught one edge and pulled it tight, writing a bitter tale in every new wrinkle she created.

At the same time, she felt nothing. Approached her behaviour as if it was merely a task that had to be done.

He smoothed things over. He restored the order. She needed to disrupt the world outside her head to take her focus off the chaos within.

_Is it working?_

That sweet inner-voice, always calling her on her absurd behaviour.

Messing up what he has so painstakingly fixed...it _did_ appeal to her on some level.

_The world should be as out of place as I feel._

Her fingers clenched in the sheet, then let go. She stared blankly down at the bed.

_You want to destroy what happened. You have made the bed a symbol of that._

_I know that,_ she said.

_But the bed is just an inanimate object. It shares no blame here._

_I know that._

_Set it on fire. Burn it away. It still won't change what has happened._

_I know that!_

She was panting, she hadn't shouted that out-loud, but there was something so very physical about her reaction. She threw the sheet down, and then herself. She fell sideways onto the bed and brought her arms and legs up tight. Curled in a way she knew was vulnerable, but it was the way she felt, so she let it show in her motions. Who was there to see anyway?

She alternated between two desires as she lay there and shook. As she breathed hard and squeezed her eyes down tight, but did not cry. She wanted him to stay away, not for forever, not really, but long enough for her to find her balance again.

And she wanted him there. She wanted his knee under her cheek and his fingers in her hair, as he whispered soothing words and curved his back over her to create a shelter from the world.

But what would she have to give up to gain such comfort?

What would she have to give in?

_Don't feel this way._

_Make me understand._

They were just whispers inside her. Contradictive and complimentary. She felt them both, hard edges and soft centre. Which was stronger-she couldn't honestly say. She couldn't even measure them out in the shifting fabric of her mind.

She just knew that she wanted him there.

And far, far away.

* * *

tbc...


	59. Moving

Moving

* * *

It was colder now. The sun was setting on the world, bringing the night, and the night was always colder.

_Especially when you are alone,_ his mind prompted.

He pulled his arms in closer to his body, hunched his shoulders as his hands buried deep in his pockets. The wind whipped at his bangs, his shoes crunching over ice as snowflakes landed on his cheeks like cold kisses.

How strange the world looked sometimes, under the cover of night. He ducked his ears closer to his upturned collar, and absently took in the streets and alleys that he had been seeing for over a month now, looking slightly different and strangely pristine beneathe shadow and snow.

_Little shifts change everything. Seeing things in new lights-it can change the shape of things you have been seeing for years._

_Aya is Aya, my vision of her hasn't changed much over the years._

_She has only grown sharper in my mind. Colorfast, like disappointment has washed the world to grey, but her colours only grow more vibrant in contrast._

_The gold of her hair, the blue of her eyes. I know that these are features that we share-but I can't help but feel-always feel-like I fade around the edges while she __**glows**__. Like I am just a star in the shadow of the moon, and any light I have is just a reflection of hers._

_The closest stars disappear when the moon is full..._

A random thought. He glanced up at the sky but saw no moon. The heavens were too full of clouds and snow. The moon was there, but just hidden.

He sighed, lowering his head again. The wind was too blustery and bitter to keep your head lifted.

It was too cold, period, to be out.

_The truth is, right now she is too fragile. And I am too intent. I don't want to be out here, but being around each other right now is a dangerous temptation._

_Dangerous in my desire to reach. Dangerous in her desire to push._

In the morning, he promised himself, knowing that the morning would make for a long, anxious night.

_In the morning we will begin our dance._

He wasn't sure what he was going to do, and he didn't really think on it as he scuffed his shoe in loose, new snow, drawing a strange pattern. He found a concrete fragment under the snow and he kicked it absently, watching it mar the pure white path before him. He followed soon after, obliterating those small imperfections with his heavier footsteps.

_A perfect night would see me home (home being a synonym for 'Aya'). I would hold her close, and together we would scare away the cold._

A cozy image in his head, not of lust or heat, but of closeness and comfort. Of _togetherness_. It was tinged gold with soft light, and there was an aurora around them as if they created this light.

When he imagined such moments the wind grew increasingly bitter in their wake. In irony though, the physical world became less sharp.

He glanced down at his watch and saw that little over an hour had passed. He didn't want to stay away until she was safe from him in sleep, but he understood the need for time to sort your own head out.

_One night won't be enough, but it will settle her somewhat into our new roles._

_Maybe better to say...the true nature of our roles? They are not quite...new..._

_Is that what really bothers her?_

So many moments, situations, so many things he can see now from this new angle. Behaviours understood, words explained, to some extent.

_When she looked at me that other morning...that look was real?_

A shudder through his body that had nothing to do with cold. Because there had been definite confusion there, but peeking out from behind that confusion had been real...desire. He tried to think of other ways to describe it, but that was the word that kept coming back to him.

Along with the intensity of that look. Lasting for barely more than a few seconds, but bright enough to burn into his mind, bright enough to leave after-images on his eyelids when he closed his eyes.

It –haunted- him.

He bit his lip, and promised himself that look. Swore to himself that he'd see it again. That he would coax it out from behind her confusion. Find some way. And once he had it, he'd keep it. He'd build on it.

_They_ would build on it.

Every day. Every night.

Cold barely touched him as heat suffused his blood. He felt his cheeks begin to sting as his face flushed. But not with embarrassment, oh no. with anticipation for the future. With an echo of the night before, that had left him feeling bold and anxious, rather than shy and uncertain. He had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk as he fairly shook with desire.

_Thinking this way doesn't help,_ he chided, forcing his feet to move again. Standing still was the last thing he wanted to do. When he was still, his thoughts began to stagnate, the cold became un-ignorable. Better to keep moving.

He paused and looked up, and realized that he was standing at the steps of their apartment building. That his feet had led him full-circle. He frowned as this puzzled, turning to the steps and taking one forward on habit.

He frowned, tilting his head back to stare at their window. Of course, he didn't expect to see her, but that wasn't the point, he could see her well enough in his mind if he _didn't_ try hard enough.

He imagined the falling of walls and barriers, trying to picture her, not as he wanted to see her, but as she really was at the moment...

It was too difficult...She was too unpredictable in this state. He could barely stand to imagine her crying, so he imagined her staring at the bathroom mirror instead. Her state of dress was hazy, because it just didn't matter, but her face was distinct and clear. Her pupils widened to darkness, until the iris was just a rim of blue, like the halo of light around an eclipsed moon. Her lips were loose, but down-turned, maybe with confusion, maybe with wariness. And she stared at herself and...

Did she see him? In the gold of her hair? The blue of her eyes, made so much darker by constantly shifting thoughts?

He imagined her hands, at first loose at her sides, and then curled over the edge of the sink, tight as she leaned forward, as if to peer closer, as if that would bring clarity.

Thoughts never stay the same. Even in his own mind he couldn't stay away from her. He stepped into the reflection of the mirror as if stepping onto a stage. A private stage, meant only for their eyes. She stood and his hand settled, unhurried and steady on her hip. He watched in the mirror the way the cloth of her robe wrinkled under his fingers, and he imagined the feel of it in his head. Thick, rough fabric, too coarse for his tastes, but a pleasing contrast to her true beauty. Under this unworthy material was soft, smooth flesh, heat and sleek strength. He kneaded his hands, sliding them slowly to cross over her stomach and take in as much of her as he could.

He wanted to close his eyes at the distracting feel of her shuddering against him, but he kept them open and was rewarded with the soft part of her lips, the soft catch of her breath.

Pushing down gently on her stomach, he drew her back into the line of his body, practically humming in restraint and pleasure as she was enclosed more firmly in his arms. He turned his face into her hair, and her head slowly tilted back to lean against his shoulder. Some thoughtless gesture, but strangely, sweetly reminding him of given trust.

The embrace was slow-moved, but pleasant. Still evolving but growing only more perfect. Her hands lifted to caress lovingly over his, running up his arms and curving her back more prominently so that her breasts were lifted temptingly.

He had to take a breath at the image they presented, had to breathe deep of her scent and close his eyes to feel it all moving through him.

And this feeling was why he knew she'd give in eventually. Because this feeling was too strong and pure to be kept under for long. And she _had_ to feel it. The conflict in her eyes said it all. There wouldn't be such clear conflict if she wasn't struggling with her own emotions.

_She loves me, I know she does._

Gods, the hot flush of emotion that went through him at that thought. It was enough to distract him from his point as he opened his eyes and stared at their empty window with longing and gentle confusion.

But he lowered his head and doggedly pursued it, pushing himself to return to the cold sidewalk, and turn away from the window.

_She loves me, and that is the point. You can struggle with these emotions, but they cannot be conquered.-_He wished he could say such a thing to her, and have her understand it and believe it. But she wasn't yet ready...

* * *

tbc...


	60. Reverie

Reverie

* * *

Time was passing so slowly. He purposefully turned right at the next corner, crossing the deserted street. A snowflake drifted down to land in the small space between his collar and hair, sending a shudder to chase across his shoulders. He rolled his head from side to side and banished the sensation, glancing up and down the street to make sure he was indeed still alone.

At the next corner he crossed another street, watched a single car drift by and decided to walk by their work. Not for any reason, but because it was a goal. He needed a destination, for he knew exactly where his feet would lead him if he let his mind wander again.

And it was too soon for him to go back. She would go to bed early tonight, because her mind would hound her until she couldn't see anything else, but before that she would drift from moment to moment and try to latch onto any distraction she could find.

He should know. He had done the same.

He imagined her curled up in that small bed alone. Would she be asleep when he got home? Or would she feign sleep just to not deal with him?

What a painful thought, but he could understand. Still, understanding didn't lessen the pain. It actually increased it, because he could commiserate. Like anticipating the prick of the needle only made it sting more.

And understanding definitely _stung_.

There were lots of things he understood, that he was diligently trying not to look at. Like...how she might _blame_ him. Might push away all thought of reciprocation and force herself to believe him delusional. May...hide behind anger and push all responsibility out on him.

He took responsibility for what was his, he owned the parts he had influenced, consciously or subconsciously. But he wasn't alone in responsibility here. And he hated to think in terms of 'blame', because that would be like saying his emotions were a mistake, or wrong...and a word like 'wrong' was too abstract to have real meaning here.

_I can't make myself see it as wrong. I can't make myself feel __**sorry**__ about these emotions. I love Aya. I will never feel sorry for that._

What a difference a rough month and hundreds of miles make. He vaguely remembered nearly being crippled with angst before they left everything they knew behind. But it was a distant memory, slightly displaced as if he was out of touch with it.

Or remembering something he had experienced only vicariously.

Had he really tried so hard not to love her?

How impossible it all seemed now.

And how sad. To see something so wonderful as a behaviour that needed to be corrected. As something he should fear and hate and hide.

How sad.

But it was a lesson he had to learn the hard, slow way. And unfortunately it was a lesson she was learning right now.

Again, a thought pricked at him. _Should I back off? I don't really want to, but it shouldn't be all about what I want..._

Her, sprawled across that small bed, her eyes dark with heat as she curiously placed her hand on his chest. As she slowly chose to ignore certain realities just so she could make a new one where her conscience would allow her to reach out to him, to touch him.

The soft part of her lips in a look of true want, too raw and strong to be hidden, or manufactured. The slow down-glide of her hand, as if he was to be taken in, savored in pieces. As if he had a beauty that wasn't just a reflection of her own. And she wanted that beauty, to touch it, taste it-

Possess it.

_Possess him._

He paused again in the new snow, curling his hands into fists and taking a deep breath. His emotions kept over-spilling their cup, and while a great part of him wanted nothing more than to fall back into them and revel in their sweet poignancy, most of him understood that he had to keep a level-head, or risk a miss-step in this new dance. And this was too important to allow for mistakes.

Not that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Oh, he knew the destination he wanted, but he had no idea what paths that journey would take them down.

The store-front to the shoppe was bright, if not mostly deserted, and he was surprised, having forgotten that it really wasn't that late at all, and so it would still be open at least for another hour. Not to mention, the reminder that other people even existed was strangely...new.

And yet, they didn't seem to matter. Except for maybe..._him._

He supposed he should feel a modicum of gratitude to this distant idea called 'Rei', but in the grand scheme of things, he just wanted to sneer. Sneer, and make it absolutely obvious that such a person will never gain any real foothold in their life.

The gratitude was all logical, and had absolutely nothing to do with emotions. He understood that 'Rei' was part of the force that had driven Aya to confront him last night. That part of the conflict that had spurred her was this boy's interest in her, her lack of reciprocation, and how _he_ viewed her relationship with Aki.

She hadn't been quite clear about that, but he was no idiot. He knew how to fill in the blanks, interaction with Aya had at least taught him that much.

Rei liked her. Aya didn't like him. _So why,_ his inner-voice returned, _did she go with him to that party?_

_Easy enough, in its complexity. She was pushing me away._

_Rei perceived us as a couple. She probably didn't look at it consciously, but the fact that someone else saw them as such...well, it suggested a great deal, didn't it?_

_A great deal that she probably hadn't wanted to look at._

He lowered his head and forced himself to walk past. Forced himself not to look in the front window to see if this 'Rei' was there.

He didn't matter. Not really.

_Aya..._

Another glance at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed. Alternately too long and too short. He wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into that small bed with her, to have this business behind them. The bitter wind spurred this desire on even more. It pinched at his skin, and shook his shoulders slightly.

He took a right at the next corner and realized that he had stayed away as long as he could. He didn't know what was awaiting him, but knowing she was there hurried his feet. His walk out had been more of a wander, but now his steps were intent and steady on the snowy sidewalk. He raised his chin and observed the deserted street before him, and the spattering of lit windows around him. It was a rough thirty minute walk back, he had wandered in near circles for the better part of two hours, and it would just have to be enough for her.

_It was for me, too._

He realized his thoughts were flowing more calmly. His emotions, while still strong, had smoothed over the surface some. They still bubbled hotly, but they weren't spiking like solar flares anymore. For the moment.

_So maybe, just maybe, I can see her, speak to her, without my skin practically jumping with the urge to touch her._

He doubted it.

Happiness and dread, what strange emotions to entwine within him. Happiness at the thought of seeing her, of knowing his emotions, despite their impossibility, were reciprocated.

Dread, because everything had to be so careful. Because he had to measure each of his actions with delicacy, until she was ready to give up the ghost.

And dread, because he knew he had to _push_, but he didn't want to push too hard.

He sighed, even as his spirits remained so high. But he steadied himself with the reminder that he was going to see her soon, and no matter how she chose to _see him_ for the moment...he always wanted to be close to her.

Tomorrow was another day off. Tomorrow was another day where it would be just them. They would talk tomorrow.

One way or another.

( ) *

As expected, she was in bed when he arrived home. Whether she was actually asleep or not was another matter all-together. 


	61. Transition

Transition

* * *

Aya awoke to the enticing smell of hot oil and frying egg. She rolled over in the small bed and sighed, her stomach prodding at her to wake up already. There was food to be had, and she hadn't eaten a single bite yesterday.

Yesterday...

Her eyes slid open slowly as she stared at the far wall. It was clearly morning because light slanted in from her left. Coherency in the morning wasn't something she was generally good at, but her mind did make the effort now, spurred on by a certain sense of...anxiety.

Yet another emotion she wasn't good at.

Her stomach didn't care about mental or emotional trauma, it prodded at her insistently. She hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. The idea of needing food hadn't even occurred to her yesterday.

_Aki is cooking breakfast._

Statement of fact.

_I bet he didn't eat yesterday either._

And she drew up short at that, having realized something she couldn't before.

_Aki is probably just as upset as I am._

_Just as scared..._

_Why couldn't I remember that yesterday? Why couldn't I see anything from his side?_

_The truth is, I couldn't see anything yesterday, beyond my own emotions._

_I don't know why he feels this way about me, but it's not like he chose to..._

_So...so, we can talk about this._

_We can move on..._

She wasn't sure if she really believed that, but she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.

So they were going to talk, okay. Over breakfast would probably be best. As soon as possible. Now it was just a matter of forcing herself to get up. Her arms and legs felt like led, her hair like chains weighing her head down. She knew she had slept a good twelve hours, but she was still so tired. She felt like she had been running from dream to dream, without any pause in between.

She frowned as she realized that her fear was yet again sabotaging her. She forcefully slid her hand across the bed, then pushed up. Her hair hung in kinks and curls, as it tended to do when she slept on it wet. With a habitual flick of her head, she knocked it back from her face and yawned, bringing a tear to the corner of her eye.

Rubbing at her eyes, she slowly got her feet under and sat on the edge of the messy bed. All that was left was turning. All that was left was being 'Aya', and not whoever the hell she was yesterday.

She still half-felt like her...

She slid her feet into her slippers and got up, then padded silently across the floor. He was occupied at the small stove, so his back was toward her when she reached the table. Purposefully she looked past him and noted that he was rolling fried egg in a square pan. There was already rice and soup on the table, and her mouth fairly watered.

"I didn't know you knew how to make tamagoyaki," a plaintive statement, her voice slightly rough from disuse.

He started, swinging around, and she was treated to the unique sight of her brother's surprise. More surprise than a simple 'start'.

"Good morning," he said slowly, then tilted his head. "And I didn't know how. Not until ten minutes ago anyway," he glanced pointedly at the open cookbook on the narrow counter. Then his eyes returned just as quickly to her, his gold brows slanting in clear question. They seemed to be saying, 'You're actually talking to me...?'

She sighed, took a seat at the small table and placed her hands clasped between her knees. She squeezed down on them.

Without looking he reached back and turned off the burner, his eyes never leaving hers, or letting up on their curiosity. The egg continued to sizzle in the silence between them. Then his look gentled, brightened, but oddly enough, grew more wary as well.

"I knew the food would bribe you into talking to me." A slightly teasing tone. He didn't really sound like anything other than her brother. And yet, maybe she couldn't recognize a difference from before because there really wasn't one.

How far had things changed?

And how much was exactly the same as it had always been?

She frowned. "It's not like that, Aki. We need to talk."

Another moment of silence.

This carefulness was only to be expected.

"Serious words," he said softly.

She couldn't tell if he was mocking her. There was something mocking about the words themselves, but his tone was so quiet.

"This is a very serious matter," she returned. She couldn't read his true mood, and she couldn't figure why.

( ) *

It never even occurred to her that he was also trying to read her mood. Watching and waiting to see what she would do. What argument she would use. Only then would he decide how to act.

"It's only as serious as we want to make it, Aya." A plain statement, just forceful enough to maybe push her into saying the words she was clearly holding on the tip of her tongue. He watched her knees squeeze tighter against the backs of her hands, her knuckles paling at the process of blood-loss and numbness. He wanted to tell her to stop that. He wanted to reach out and take her hands in his, soothe away her fists with sweet touches.

He wanted her to let him love her.

"How can you say that, Aki," she whispered, not accusing, but obviously confused. He understood her confusion, but the only touch of it he felt was vicariously. He could empathize, but he could not relent.

"I can say it because it's true," he said, turning back to the stove, but catching out of the corner of his eye the slow lift of her head as she stared at him.

Transferring the rolled omelet to a plate and placing the pan in the sink, he decided she looked adorable, all sleep-tousled and confused. He sliced the roll into eighths, and figured it looked vaguely enough like the image in the book.

It was no accident that tamagoyaki was one of Aya's favourite breakfasts. No doubt she was just as hungry today as he was.

He set a plate of fried omelet on either side of the table, between a bowl of white rice and thin soup. He wanted to linger at her side and give her a more direct look, but he forced himself to his own side of the table.

And still she didn't answer him. Still she stared at him.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, but it was a habitual pleasantry outside of their actual conversation. Despite how stalled it was.

He understood that and nodded accordingly. He picked up his chopsticks and she followed soon after. He said no more, eventually she would answer him, though he hadn't really asked a question. No, she would answer the subtle challenge in his voice. Probably without even realizing it.

"True of not," she muttered, lifting a quarter of her portion of the omelet to her mouth and sniffing delicately, "It changes things."

She placed the bite in her mouth and closed her eyes, clearly savoring the simple flavours of sweetness and soy sauce. It wasn't the first time he had watched her eat, but he consciously made his observation more subtle, wanting nothing more than to ask her if it tasted right, and slightly amused that he felt anxious for her to enjoy it. In the midst of everything, this is where his anxiety lay? Really?

But she took a soft breath and opened her eyes, continued on with their strange dual-conversation. "It's very good," she complimented, and his shoulders eased. "Maybe you should cook all our meals from now on?"

"Thank you," he smiled, "and I so don't think so. Half and half, Aya. That's what we agreed on."

There was an insinuation there, if she chose to look.

She acknowledged his double-meaning with a slight shake of her head. She reached for her rice next, clearly wanting to move on and leave their conversations separated.

"All that has changed is that you're aware now." He let that statement lie, before he added his next. The addendum was far more important after all. "And so am I."

She met his eyes at that, and he saw a strangely conscious try at not understanding. She had initiated this conversation, but it clearly still wasn't something she wanted to be having right now.

He could commiserate, but he wasn't going to relent. He instead methodically picked through his small meal and waited.

Good or not, he hardly noticed. For the moment it was just a means to end the angry grumbling of his stomach.

A few more bites on her side of the table, then she hesitated, and he observed the always unique sight of Aya consciously gathering her thoughts together. She always started it this way: by shaking her head slightly, as if there was an irritating voice whispering in her ear and she was trying to dislodge it...

* * *

tbc...


	62. Semantics

Semantics

* * *

The same voice that had plagued her all day yesterday was only too happy to point out what she wanted to avoid, and contradict all her thoughts.

_He's being a lot calmer about this then I expected._

_He's probably thinking the same about you._

_That last sentence is strange. Is he saying...he wasn't aware of his own feelings before?_

_Idiot. You're purposefully misinterpreting him. What did I say last night about 'sabotage'? He's talking about __**your feelings**__._

She shook her head slightly at that, just a short turn once, either way. _I don't understand._

A sigh. _You do. He's saying that the biggest thing that has changed about this situation is that he now knows you have feelings for him._

_It's a rather clever statement, actually. Challenge, and warning, all at the same time._

She persisted in clinging to her ignorance. _I don't understand._

_Challenge. He's inviting you to disagree with him out-right, which will in turn open a more direct path for a deeper argument about this._

_Warning. He's telling you that he's not going to ignore what has happened. He's saying he's not going to back down. But he's saying it so gently. How clever, to say so little, but mean so much._

What was this strange new feeling...it almost felt like admiration, amusement, and dread-all rolled into one...

_A deeper argument, what does that mean?_

_Tell him your feelings aren't like his. Tell him he is your brother, and that is the only way you will ever see him. Tell him, and you will see._

She truly hesitated at that, scenting danger in that soft insinuation, even though it was only instructing her to do what she had planned to do all along.

Had her inner-voice not worded it like that...would she have even noticed the danger in such statements?

_Warning..._she echoed, saying nothing. The word had an uncomfortably dark feel to it; she didn't like it connected to Aki at all. It didn't seem to fit.

_Fit or not, it's true._

_But what does it mean_, she stressed, knowing that statement was far more dangerous than the previous one. It spoke of action and confrontation, and she wasn't sure how to deal with either right now.

_Tell him your reasoning,_ that voice prompted again. _And all will be made clear to you._

Throwing the word 'sabotage' around, she could definitely recognize it when she 'heard' it.

But these were words she _had_ to say, if they were really going to discuss this. So she kept her food in her hand, took a deep, fortifying breath, and tried to appear natural.

"Aki, you are my brother." No room to argue there. "That is never going to change." Still no room to argue, and he didn't even try. You couldn't argue with the truth, after all. "And..."

So hard. So, so hard to speak. She forced the words out anyway, mentally bracing herself for an attack. "And...that is all you can ever be." The words were quiet, but not gentle. Such words were never gentle in these types of emotional situations.

She took a quicker breath than what was natural, fought down the urge to close her eyes and draw her shoulders in. Sometimes words could fall like blows.

But he remained unmoved. He took a sip of his tea, the small cup scraping against the saucer seemed especially loud in the ensuing silence. She listened to that silence and grew steadily more nervous.

His fingers traced a slow, quiet circle around the rim of his cup, then paused. He lifted his eyes to hers. "Do you know what you taste like, Aya?"

She blinked, her head twitching slightly to the left, but her eyes not being able to pull away. "What," she said. Not a question, not a whisper...something even softer than that.

"You taste," he pronounced slowly and clearly, "like something unique, I'm not sure how to describe it." And here he gave her a look that was almost through his lashes, almost coy. "Not really sweet, or bitter, or salty, but...fragrant. like nothing I've ever tasted before...but so, so compelling. Like," and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back with a soft breath. "something intoxicating. Addictive." He slitted open his eyes, his head tilted back still, to stare at her. "I crave you."

"Aki," she whispered, uncertain and lost, and so, so trying not to understand any of the words he was saying. Her body ran alternately hot, while her blood ran suddenly cold. There was an instinctive understanding deep within her, even as she consciously turned her head away from such an understanding.

With the soft breath of his name, she was saying 'What am I suppose to do with that?'

He, of course, answered her unspoken question, not bothering to try looking less affected. "Do you think that this is something someone who is 'just your brother' would say?"

She blinked slowly, not knowing how to react. She hadn't really had concrete expectations for this conversation, but she had ideas.

Nothing was happening as expected. Or close.

A breath through her lips, a slow intake, and she found it so difficult suddenly to sit still. But she put steel in her spine and refused to squirm under his less than 'familial' attention.

_My_, her inner-voice reflected, sounding mildly impressed, _that's not an avenue of attack that I had anticipated. He is rather clever, isn't he?_

_And confident..._

_Don't, _she thought weakly. Pleaded even. _Don't think about him like that..._

With admiration and amusement...and faint dread.

Because her 'inner-voice' was her, no matter how she tried to forget that fact.

"I don't...I don't...Aki..." There was a question to that, but she was too far out of her comfort zone to hear it herself. She had never seen Aki like this. Had never suspected he could _be_ like this.

Now he leaned slowly forward, lowering his head until his bangs fell half-across dark eyes. "You don't what, Aya? You don't understand? You don't feel the same way that I do?"

She just blinked at him, still trying to process his voice, and the odd sensation of cool fingers dragging down her spine.

She, herself, wasn't certain how that stuttered sentence was meant to end.

His voice was filled with a slow aggression, and made her feel inexplicably shaky. The world wasn't quite solid around her.

He was painfully sharp in his lines. Startlingly bright in his colours. But there was a hazy, softness to his voice that was far more arresting than all of that.

And now his hands were resting palm-down on the table, and that expanse of cheap wood suddenly seemed too small to her. She slowly sat back in her chair without noticing. His hands slid across the table with that same deliberate slowness, and her lips parted, though no breath escaped her. She just couldn't comprehend what was happening here. There were words in his actions, but she couldn't hear them over the sudden loud thumping of her own heart.

Danger. Danger. Danger-is what her heart was beating out. But it didn't hold the echo of _fear_.

He wasn't acting like 'Aki'.

_He isn't acting like your brother, _her inner-voice corrected. _Quit forcing yourself to see him through that filter._

_No, _she countered quickly, _I have to see him like that!_

_Then you are never going to be able to anticipate his behaviour, because what all this means? He's not going to act within that narrow framework anymore._

"Let's get something straight," he said, in that same soft voice. "I am in love with you. It's not a mistake, or a delusion. It's very, very real. I can't tell you when it began, because I honestly don't know. Except that if feels like I've felt this way forever..."

She was panting slightly now, her hands clutching at the edge of the table. She didn't remember reacting. She had the strange sensation of feeling the deep, hard pace of her breath as if it was a sound in her ear. Like muted noise under water.

And yet, his voice remained sharp and clear.

"So I'm your brother, and I'm not _suppose_ to feel this way. That doesn't change the fact that I do.

"And what's more, it doesn't change the fact that _you do_."

She opened her mouth, moved to say something without being fully conscious of what.

"Go ahead," he spoke before she could, "Say that it does. Say...say that you don't feel the same way."

She just stared at him, whatever words she was about to say being frozen en route. They felt like they were lodged in her throat, thick and spiky and shredding her vocal cords to ribbons.

"Because," he now pronounced slowly, directly. "I won't believe you."

_But I don't, Aki..._

Why wasn't she saying that out-loud?

_I don't feel the same way..._

Why was there an open-end to that sentence? Why couldn't she make her voice firm in her own head?

He lifted his left hand, and her eyes followed just as they were meant to. He pressed that hand lightly, at an angle, over his own mouth, then slowly dragged his palm across until only his fingertips remained pressed gently against his lips. She watched his lips part on a soft breath, watched them feather over his own skin.

It was almost a kiss.

Her own fingers clenched against the table, and her body suddenly ran hot with the unexpected memory of his mouth on her, of his tongue licking across her fingers and the deep darkness of his eyes as he watched her watch him.

She couldn't help it, she couldn't help it as heat pooled, thick and slow like honey in her lower stomach. She couldn't help the way her spine stiffened and she shifted in her chair.

It was just a physical reaction. Just physical. It didn't _mean_ anything.

"Aya..." so sweet and quiet. A call that, even in her persevering innocence, she could still hear. A breath pitched specifically for temptation.

_He's not playing by the rules_, she sputtered nervously in her mind.

_There are rules? _Her inner-voice countered, radiating a sense of dark amusement at her that had her suddenly feeling young and small. And infinitely foolish.

There weren't rules, of course there wasn't. but she felt like there should be.

However, this situation was so far past the norm that there couldn't possibly be a point of reference. Uncertain terrain. A lawless territory. She didn't know what words to say, how to act. Especially when he countered all her arguments with such acts of deliberate sensuality.

You couldn't argue with someone who refused to argue. You couldn't argue with someone who clearly knew how to keep the upper-hand.

_Aki is serious. And he's determined. I've never seen him ruthless before._

_Haven't you?_

_Not like this_, she denied.

_Maybe the setting is different, but the character trait is still the same. You've only called it different names before. Different contexts, things take on a different name._

There was some insinuation in that. Something about the grey space that resided on the edge of everyone's vision. If she tried hard enough, she knew she'd be able to see it. But only if she tried.

'Trying' meant confronting ideas she wasn't ready to think through to their conclusions yet, so she steadfastly pushed it all right out of her mind.

_That defense will only work for so long. Especially when he is being so precise and focused in his attacks._

_Precise. Focused. Attacks..._she echoed those unfamiliar words weakly. She wanted to contradict such a statement in connection to her brother, but she felt like she was under attack. Only...only the threat wasn't of any sort of pain.

How could she contradict something she agreed with?

He wasn't saying anymore. But he didn't _need_ to say anymore. His purpose was blatant in the way he slid his fingers over his chin, slowly drew them down his throat. They lingered on the hollow between his collarbones, and she could almost feel cooler fingertips brushing against silken hot flesh. Almost feel the pump and pulse of life beneath.

She was on her feet in the next second, and she didn't recall how she had gotten there, only that there was a muted clatter as her chopsticks struck the table, and her chair tipped slightly. She was breathing hard, and there were fists curled at her sides...and nails imbedded in flesh.

She showed her teeth, and she didn't quite understand why. Only that she felt a surge of something aggressive within her. Aggressive, with its roots in fear.

He didn't freeze, he calmly tilted his head back and left his hand splayed gently over his chest. She didn't quite understand how, but she recognized an 'invitation' when she saw one...

He wasn't acting like 'Aki', right?

This wasn't _him_, right?

This aggressive, blatantly sensual person, with his forceful personality and a clear lack of conscience...

He felt this way, but he didn't _want _to...right?

* * *

tbc...


	63. Reel

Reel

* * *

She stood and panted, but realized her move was unfinished. She should storm away, but she had nowhere to go. She should slam her hands down on the table, but she did not feel real anger.

She should say something, something that would get through to him, and make him understand her, but...

_But she didn't even understand herself._

She stood, towered over him really, and was completely lost as to how exactly she had gotten there, and what steps she was meant to take next. He wasn't acting the way he was suppose to!

_He is suppose to be uneasy, uncomfortable, embarrassed._

_Apologetic. Confused. He is suppose to say he is sorry. And he doesn't know how this happened._

_And it's just a passing 'thing'._

_And soon we can put this behind us, and he'll be my 'brother' again._

_Soon he will be as he has always been..._

And inexplicably, the aggression was gone, and tears filled her eyes. He wasn't going to say all that, and be all that. Because he didn't mean it. He didn't even _want_ to mean it.

_Things will never be like they were..._

A simple, obvious statement, but it still struck her like a blow to the stomach. She jerked, stumbled from the table and fell right back into her chair. She covered her face with her hands, pressed her palms hard into her eyes as if she could shove the tears right back in and somehow dam the confusion that was swelling so violently within her.

Her tears hadn't even fallen a handful of seconds before she felt a soft touch on her hair, a hesitant touch on her knee.

"Aya...Aya, I'm _so_ sorry."

Barely words at all, but true apology behind them. She listened to it, and thought maybe just maybe, after finally seeing guilt in him, she could reign in her emotions, and make an unusual try at letting rationality rule her.

A few more tears, a few more sniffs, and she finally made a conscious effort to swallow her tears back down. She slowly lowered her hands from her eyes, but kept them still pressed against her face. Her lips were wet with tears, moist from too quick breaths.

Curious to look down at him. curious to see him from somewhere above. He knelt at her feet, one hand braced on her knee and the other still half-reached to her. When she lifted her head she watched his eyes transform. Gentle, sad inquiry shifted to sober contriteness. He reached back across the space she had created between them when she moved, and ran his fingers down a damp gold lock that was clinging to her cheek. He tucked it behind her ear, then wiped away her tears with careful fingertips.

She let him tidy her face, and try to soothe her. She waited for him to say what he meant to say.

She only hoped it was something she could listen to.

"Don't misunderstand," he said gently, but firmly, "I am not sorry I love you. How could I be? I am sorry that you are struggling so hard with this..."

A breath, almost a sob from her. His eyes were so bright with pain, but it didn't overcome his love, and he was clearly refusing to hide behind that pain. Fingers barely rested on her wet cheek, warming her too cold skin.

Another breath, and her chest rose and fell hard. "What am I suppose to do...?" she didn't think that question, it just came from her lips, torn and strangled by confusion and growing defeat. Her conscience was telling her one thing, her body another, and her emotions were being knocked and battered back and forth between the two.

And the only one..._the only one_ who had ever been able to steady her when she started to slip into free-fall, or catch her and pull her back up when she was already falling...

Was the one that kept shoving her over the edge.

Instinct told her to turn to Aki. To turn to her brother...

But she couldn't now. she _just couldn't._

And so she felt as if she were left spinning in place with nowhere to turn.

A sigh from him. such a grown-up sound. "That question...I really don't know how to answer that, Aya. I left all the 'suppose to's behind me long ago. After all, they just didn't seem to have any relevance. I can't tell you how to deal with this, Aya. Anything I say will be tainted by my own desires. I can't really help that. I can't say I'm sorry, and this will pass, and I won't try-because that would be a lie. I _can_ say that I will never hurt you. That I love you with everything that I am, and whatever I think I could be. I don't know if that's really a comfort to you right now, but it is the truth.

"I can't tell you what to do, not really, not with a clear conscience. I can only tell you the truth. And this is the truth: Part of me wishes I was sorry for feeling this way, but even that is not a pure wish. This desire is less about any real guilt on my part, and more about what you want from me...That _is_ what you want from me, right? Aya?" He ducked his head slightly, to catch her eyes in a more direct look, and she realized that she had tried to look away, to lean back. But he pushed forward slightly when she leaned back, his chest pressing in a warm line against her knees, his hand having slid back into her hair as her head turned. But this was clearly a question he wanted answered.

It was also an answer she didn't have. It seemed wrong to want guilt from him, when he asked her directly if that's what she wanted. She didn't want that at all. However, she _didn't _know what she did want, so she bit her lips and stared back at him with bleary eyes.

"Do you want my opinion? And keep in mind that it is very suspect right now. But...if you want it, I will give it to you..."

Did she? Did she really want his opinion?

Easy enough question, she always wanted to know what Aki was thinking.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice still rough and thick with tears.

His lips curved slightly in a smile, but it wasn't really a smile. No more than that bitter twist of her mouth had been last night. But this expression was different. There was gentleness behind this expression. Tempered only with sadness.

"Then I will tell you, Aya. And you can do whatever you want with it..." He slowly sat back on his heels, slid his hand out of her hair, then took up her left in both of his. He stared down at their hands, her flesh warmed between his, and rubbed his thumb in a gentle circle over her knuckles. He paused, then turned her hand over and traced that thumb over her palm, drawing it over the head-line and the heart-line, mapping the space between like it was a path.

She couldn't help the soft intake of breath. Her hands had always been especially sensitive, and he seemed to know how to touch her just right. Another hesitation from him, and she saw him bite his lip, saw his eyelashes sweep down lower and veil his eyes from her.

"I think...I think that...You shouldn't think so hard about everything. Or maybe...not think in words of 'blame' and 'when' and 'expectation'. 'Acceptance' isn't advice that one can just hear and decide to take, it is a place one must come to on their own. But that is all I can offer right now. just know that I will never push you into anything you're not ready for. Know that, and please believe it. You do know that, right, Aya?" his fingers curved around hers, holding now rather than lying open. And his eyelashes were no longer a barrier between them.

_I know that. I do, Aki._

"I know, Aki," still her voice was wet with tears, but he relaxed slightly at her words, and that strange smile became more of a real smile. He took a slow breath, then pulled her hand gently forward. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, resting his forehead in their hands. She watched his shoulders loosen, his whole body seem to unfurl and go soft in slow pieces until he was nearly draped across her knees, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

With hesitance she lifted her right hand, then slowly reached forward to rest it on the back of his head. She slid her fingers carefully through his gold hair, and felt her pain both swell, and soften at its edges. It filled her chest until it felt hard to breathe, but her mind calmed, and a strange tranquility snaked its way through her.

She leaned slowly forward, making her spine a curved shelter over him, and let her lips just rest, loose and parted in his hair. Closing her eyes she breathed in his scent, and _let herself feel_ loved and comforted for a moment.

A moment made all the more special with the knowledge of how transitory it would be...

* * *

tbc...


	64. Inconscient

Inconscient

* * *

A perfect moment never lasts. It is fundamentally impossible, because 'perfection' is impossible in the presence of flaws. And human perception is always flawed.

A moment of perfect contentment and understanding...it didn't fix anything. And no less than ten minutes later she found her confusion stirring, like a great sleeping beast that felt the sun pressing against its eyelids.

She wanted to cling to this sweet accordance, but things never remain static. And the eye of the storm always passes into more storm. Her shoulders stiffened as she felt him stir, felt him turn his face so that his cheek rested soft against their hands, and she was breathing deep and even against his temple. Her fingers twitched within his, and his tightened, his hold on her becoming more firm.

If she tried, she knew he'd let her go. Did she want to try?

Did she want to fully break this moment?

And even in this there was danger, it wasn't immediate, but the realization did come to her. About the same time that she felt him shift again, felt him turn his head and draw her hand up. She sat slowly back as he lifted his head, as his weight against her knees became heavier. His movements were almost lazy, almost trance-like as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss in the cup of her palm.

Then he just rested there a long moment, and filled her hand with a sigh.

She closed her eyes slowly, and pushed away her mind. She just as steadily pulled close her emotions. Her desire for comfort, for closeness. She left her hand limply in his, and let him guide her movements in uncharacteristic passivity.

Meeting no resistance in this small boundary crossed, he drew her hand closer, and pressed a moist kiss to the heel of her palm, breathing against it for a moment before slowly repeating the kiss, this time opening his mount and tasting her skin.

Her chin tilted down and her hair fell in sections around her face, her eyelashes remained soft, golden crescents on her cheeks. She wanted to curl up. She wanted to drift to sleep while he ran his fingers through her hair.

His path altered then, and he turned his head slightly right, soft lips against the base of her thumb, the join of her the knuckle, a whispered word against the tip of her thumb. Then a gentle closing of teeth on the very edge, where nail met skin. He held just that much of her between his teeth, and slowly, lazily drug his tongue across it.

Another hesitation, another breath, and he relaxed his jaw, turning his head and sliding her thumb further into his mouth.

All of this was done with such warmth, breath, and reverence, with such careful, yet natural affection, that she could hardly think beyond it. Her right hand returned to his hair, and she slid her fingers deep into those silken gold locks, twining them through her grasp and kneading into the warmth of his scalp.

He shuddered, making a soft sound in his throat, and it was such a sweet jolt of heat to her stomach. She shifted slightly in the chair, squeezing her thighs together and feeling how he shifted in reaction to her.

If she opened her eyes, she wondered if she would see the world shrouded in a soft, pink haze. She felt as if she were floating in that haze, drifting...

He shifted again, but everything was moving so slowly, like she might instead see a succession of frames, rather than a finished product. Or an echo of air passing rather than actual movement. He drew his teeth along her thumb, then slowly lifted his head, slowly opened sleepy eyes.

And she knew this because she had opened her own eyes, she was gazing down at him, because 'gaze' was the only appropriate word. Too involved for 'look', too gentle for 'stare'. This expression conveyed words she didn't quite understand yet, but he seemed to catch them, understand them, because he gave a slow, leisured blink of affection mixed with true pleasure, then rose up on his knees, pressing against her legs and stretching his neck up to her.

She didn't lower her head, at least, she didn't think she did, but his mouth still slid tenderly across hers all the same. Fingers combed gently back through her hair, tilted her head, parted her lips on a soft sigh.

Maybe it was some spell. It _had _to be a spell. Because it was several moments later that she found herself on the edge of her chair, her arms around his neck and her tongue tangled wetly with his...and it was then that she remembered that he was her brother, and she had decided they weren't going to do _this_ anymore. For some reason it was so hard to hold that decision centre in her mind...

"Mmm, Aki...no..." barely a breath against his lips, which she then thoughtlessly contradicted as her fingers tightened in the material of his shirt and she opened her mouth to him once more when his tongue licked over the edge of her teeth.

Kisses...how had she lived so long without this feeling?

His hands weaved gently through her hair, flexing and kneading and seemingly drinking up sensation as his fingers tangled in her long gold locks.

He drew his mouth back from hers a margin, but the kiss didn't end, he breathed along her cheek, marking a procession of small, wet kisses at the corner of her mouth, the line of her jaw.

He kissed her throat, right below her ear, and she shuddered helplessly, making a soft, desperate sound deep in her throat as he followed that path down. The upper edge of her collarbone, the space between her shoulder and throat, where he nudged her collar aside and bit softly down. It was like a string snapped, and her head fell back, her breath deepening into a moan as her whole body shook.

One hand smoothed from her hair, feathered gently over her cheek, then slid down. Fingertips teased at the top button of her pajama top, then slowly pushed it through its eye. Then the next, exposing a shallow 'V' of cleavage. It was when his fingertips left cloth and kissed skin that she felt another jolt of awareness. The press and working of a hot mouth at the base of her throat, the tickle of fingers across the tops of her breasts...again the realization came...

_You're kissing your brother..._

"No," she whispered, her fingers clenching in reaction, though she didn't push or pull away from him. she hung in that moment on the boundary between panic and passion, and both of them seemed deeper because of it.

_You are. You're kissing Aki._

"No," she whispered, feeling ardor begin its blind shift into guilt, feeling her emotions being taken along while her body still seemed to be caught in the throes of desire, and strangely...disconnected because of it.

Teeth pressed against her throat and she jerked, her hands scrambled at his shoulders, then she was shoving him desperately away. "Aki! No!" she was panting, her chest rising and falling hard, her fingers clenched in his shoulders. They shook, but held him firmly back at arm's length.

He was panting, too. His lips parted and swollen red with kisses. His eyes slitted open and still so glazed with desire that he looked half-dazed. His fingers held onto her shoulders as well, but loosely-he seemed to be a moment behind her.

"No," she murmured again, not sure what she really meant any more.

He took a deep breath, and then another. Then he slowly sank back to sit on his heels. His hands fell to her knees, and then to his own. Another breath, and he slowly slumped, slowly inclined his forehead to rest against her knees.

She didn't stop him, she didn't even want to. Her emotions were a tangled knot, and each action was another loop around, and her every attempt to unravel them only seemed to pull the strings tighter.

The separation of love from being 'in love'. The dividing of emotions from propriety. She _loved_ Aki, but that only seemed to make everything harder.

He sighed, she didn't hear it, but felt it, felt his ribs expand deep and slow against her legs. Her hands clenched in her lap with the instinctive urge to reach out to him. To soothe and comfort.

"Aya," so much emotion in one word, she couldn't figure out what it meant. "I love you, and I won't push you any farther than you want me to."

Such strange words-what?

"But don't misunderstand," his voice was gaining strength with each syllable. "I'm not going to back down." Again, he looked up at her, and she stared down at him, and the dark, serious light to his eyes told her that he meant every word. The trouble was, she didn't quite understand them. He was making a promise here, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

"Aki...what?"

He frowned at her question, his hands sliding up to her knees and tightening. "I can't tell if you're really that innocent, or if you are purposefully misunderstanding me," he said offhandedly, with a faint sense of aggravation. "I'm leaning more towards the latter, because I know you better than that. But either way, I will spell it out for you, Aya. I will keep telling you until you have no choice but to understand."

Ominous words, she wished, suddenly, that she had kept her mouth shut. That she hadn't opened this Pandora's box of questions. She wished that she could back away, but she was trapped between him and the chair.

"I. love. You." Each word was clear and firm, strangely separated from the previous and following words with sharp punctuation and emphasis. "I want you. But more importantly..." his fingers tightened slightly on her knees, not yet causing pain, but holding on, maybe holding her in place. "More importantly...You love me. You want me."

A softening of his voice did not soften the blow of such destructive words. She jerked back, leaned back in the chair, but his hands and body held her firmly in place. In unsurprising contrast to her pulling back, he pushed forward, rose up on his knees and leaned against her legs once more. His face was nearly level to hers.

"No," he said firmly, "Don't retreat. It won't make it any less true. You _want _me, Aya. And that makes all the difference."

_Tell him 'no'._ Instead she opened her mouth and said, "It doesn't change anything." And as he knelt at her feet and seemed to brighten with triumph, rather than darken with frustration, she too late realized how badly she had misspoken. In her rebuff she had offered confirmation, rather than firm denial.

'It doesn't change anything'-implying the dangerous prefix of 'That is true, but...'

Why did she say it like that? Was it just a case of her being persistently clumsy with her words? He opened his mouth, and she hurried on to speak, knowing it was too late to take such a damning statement back, but hoping she may be able to salvage something. "It doesn't change the fact that you are my brother. No matter what feelings either of us have, or don't-that will never change."

It always came back to that argument, that hurdle. Part of her still couldn't really believe that this was happening.

Whatever 'this' was.

He didn't react like she expected. He didn't react like _she_ would have. He tilted his head just slightly to one side and observed her calmly. "I know that," he said. "And what's more, I don't even want it to. I am glad to be Aya's brother." His hands loosened again, and for a strange moment she thought about how curious it was, that the body had a language all its own, and how tellingly expressive his was in particular.

Even when she didn't want to understand what it was saying.

"But you can't use that defense with me and actually expect it to push me away. My emotions are too strong for that." And then he sat back on his heels again, and whatever intense aura he had been using to fill his words with such forceful conviction, it seemed to pull back within him. "I'm not saying I didn't struggle with that in the beginning..." his hands dropped, and he splayed them palm-up and open on his own thighs. She wasn't sure what he saw there, but he stared for a long, long moment. "For the longest time I felt like I was being torn apart."

A plaintive statement. She hated it. Hated the subtle taste of pain and dim flavor of defeat. Nothing should ever make him feel that way. "I loved you. I knew it, I _felt_ it. But my conscience said 'no'. Over and over again, it was always 'no'. I tried to listen, I tried to not feel this way, and when that failed, I tried to move past my emotions. And when _that_ failed..." he shook his head, not a negation, but some sort of emphasis she couldn't quite interpret.

Then again, he looked up at her. "Understand, Aya, that it was not a matter of defeat. I did not conquer my conscience, and it did not conquer me. I still understand 'right' and 'wrong'. But...I understand beyond that now. Maybe I'm making excuses, I don't even know...but I don't feel 'wrong' when I say I love you. I don't feel 'wrong' when you are close to me. Knowing you love me, too...I can't just ignore that. I'm sorry, Aya, but I can't..."

_Where does that leave us_, she wanted to ask. Because he couldn't let go, and she couldn't give in, so what common ground could they even hope to find? This wasn't like their other, few-and-far-between arguments, where neither of them gave in, and both decided to just shrug and ignore their point of difference. Deciding it unimportant until they bumped heads on it again in the near-future. They hadn't met an argument yet, that they couldn't resolve and climb over in this way.

Until now.

This was too large to ignore. Too large to climb over. And she couldn't put it out of her mind while he refused to let it go. One of them was going to have to give, there had to be a giving point somewhere, otherwise the both of them would keep pushing and pulling at the issue until they tore themselves apart.

* * *

tbc...


	65. Entreat

E**ntreat

* * *

**

"Where does that leave us?" Holding the question back for so long seemed to have weakened it. It didn't sound quite sincere anymore, and she didn't understand why.

He seemed surprised at that question, that she would even ask it. He blinked at her, and as always it was that look of surprise that seemed to hold her transfixed. His surprise always seemed tinted with vulnerability, 'vulnerability' looked incredibly sweet on him. It somehow softened the usually sharp force of his personality.

But Aki was never surprised for long. "Where do you want it to leave us," he countered. "Aya, this is only as much of an issue as we want it to be."

"You keep saying that," she stressed in frustration, and he kept saying 'we', she wasn't so blind as to not notice that. And she wasn't so slow to not see the subtle manipulation in it.

He blinked again at that. "I suppose I do," he conceded. "But you keep asking me the same question." Then he continued quickly as soon as she opened her mouth. "_You do_. You keep using different words, but it's the same question again and again. I already told you that I love you, and I'm not going to ignore that anymore. It's your decision, now. you have to decide how much you want this to mess with you. How much you want to hold on to, and how much you can let go..."

She scoffed, though it didn't quite sound like a scoff. There wasn't enough bitterness, and more than enough frustrated confusion. "You make it sound so easy. How do I do all that?"

He smiled weakly, "That's the dilemma, right? Doing is so much harder than saying." He spoke with the voice of experience, they were roughly the same age, though in her mind he always seemed so much older than her. It was like he gained a year for every minute he was in this world longer than her.

Whatever the reason, she sometimes felt like such a child next to him. "But...before you can even try to _do_...you've got to say what you want to do. Aya. I've been completely honest with you. I've clearly stated my intentions. Now it's your turn. Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want to play this out. Just...tell me _some_ truth. Please? It doesn't even have to be all of it..."

Her eyes slowly widened as she stared down at him, wishing she had stayed in bed, and recognizing the precarious balance she now had on this situation. How she was swaying from side to side. '_Aki! You can't do that!'_ she wanted to say. _You can't be so ruthless when I just want to hide!_ But it felt strange telling him that he couldn't ask for the truth from her.

_The truth...what is it?_

Her hands slowly clenched on her thighs, she wanted to, but couldn't turn her head away. He had effectively caught her in place, and looking away would not change that.

He waited patiently, not repeating such a reasonable demand that he had cleverly dressed up as a plea. He spoke 'please' and with such entreaty, but beneath that was a deep, hard sense of command.

He would sit there, holding her trapped with his presence, until she gave him the inch he was demanding.

_I don't know_, she thought miserably. _I don't know what the truth is._

_Tell him that._

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Come on, Aya," he sighed, "Tell me something, anything..."

She just shook her head mutely, biting her lip.

His shoulders slumped, but then she observed them slowly start to straighten. He lowered his chin, and looked up at her through his bangs. "Fine, then I will lead. I will ask the questions, and we will gain some truth that way."

What did he mean? She was afraid, her body already seemed to know.

"Friday night," he prefaced, paused and waited instinctively, as if he knew she would flinch. If the flinch hurt him, he didn't show it. His face remained passive and cool, neither offering nor taking anything away. "You went out with Rei. That was because of me?"

She didn't want to do this. Especially since she knew the definite answer to that one, and the implications behind it that she knew she wouldn't be able to explain. Not in words, not in any way that would make real sense.

"Yes." And now she waited for the next question of natural order. Why?

But he didn't continue with demands of explanation. His lips curved in a slight enigmatic smile , and she realized suddenly that he wasn't going to chase that answer, because he already had it.

This was far more dangerous than her trying to stumble through a suggestive answer. He knew her far too well for them to play this game.

"Rei asked if we were together. What did you say?"

She wetted her lips slowly. "Nothing, I...I never answered him."

Now he asked the horrible question. "Why?"

She stared down at him. "Because...I don't like Rei. I didn't want him to think I was available..."

"So you were just trying to use _me_ as a shield?"

Why was there a lilt to that question mark? There was a trap here, she could sense it. But what other answer could she give? "Yes..."

There was a question on the end of that answer, too. Even though she absolutely forbade it from her voice. She was afraid he could still hear it though, in how well he knew her.

"Really," he said.

"Really," she echoed.

"That's all? Just a shield?"

She didn't answer because she knew it wasn't a real question. It was an invitation for her to sabotage herself further. Now he would spring the trap. She hated word games. Unfortunately, Aki was very, very good at them.

"How curious," he then commented offhandedly, "Because the Aya I know isn't afraid to tell people what she really thinks. And she definitely isn't afraid to say 'no'."

She just continued to stare down at him, not speaking a word in denial or defense. He spoke the truth. He smiled small again, and didn't push it further. It was curious, how he kept pushing at a point, then pulling back before he fully arrived at it. She wasn't..._ignorant_. in a vague sense she knew he was herding her somewhere.

"What were you thinking the other morning? When I came out of the shower?"

Her eyes had already widened in horror before she could stop them, before she could decide to play it ignorant, and ask him what he meant. He was too smart not to recognize the look, to not catch it, and understand it fully.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The truth was...the truth was...

"You were thinking about me," he prompted, phrased as a question, but it was definitely _not_ a question.

She didn't say anything, she couldn't speak.

"What were you thinking?"

Damp, smooth skin. Strong shoulders, graceful neck.

The curve of his back, something that so completely distracted her, and she for one unreal moment had wanted nothing more than to follow that line with her hands, to wrap her arms around his chest, splaying her fingers on warm, hard flesh, and see if they could actually fit in this new way. If she could press her cheek to his back, and drift on the heat, feel, and scent of him.

And somewhere, on the tip of her tongue, was the taste of water and clean skin. Not a fantasy nor a memory, but a desire she ignored the existence of, pretending she hadn't thought it in that moment, hadn't wondered, hadn't..._wanted_.

"I...I wasn't thinking anything," and now she did look away. She couldn't look at him, not while she lied. But she couldn't tell the truth either. She hadn't even realized there was a truth here, and she definitely hadn't dealt with it properly either.

It was like the taste of him from that first night (first, like she couldn't even think of what was before) she consciously hadn't been able to think of it, but she had kept tasting him on her lips, feeling the liquid heat of him, aware on some level, but still pushing it all away. How much did she really know, but told herself that she didn't?

"Aya...?"

She steadfastly kept her head turned away, that quiet, yet firm word said everything. 'You're lying.' She remained silent. She could never sit well in silence, but her alternative was impossible. Anything she said here would either be a lie, or condemning.

She didn't want to lie, she hated lying to him. but the truth could only be worse. Besides, it wasn't as if she were truly trying to pull the wool over his eyes. They both knew she was lying. Did that make it better? Or worse?

Minutes passed, and he reenforced the silence, and waited.

He was going to break her with this. She had never been able to bear silence. Not for any length of time anyway. He knew this.

_He knew her._

She shifted one way in the chair, and then the other, then froze in place when she realized that her knees were brushing against his chest, and he was leaning further into the move in pointed awareness of the action. _Stop prevaricating_, is what his body was saying. Her fingers once again clenched in the thin cloth over her thighs.

She parted her lips, and the soft smack of dry flesh pulling apart seemed especially loud. Again, like last night, the deeper the silence, the harder she found it to breathe.

A minor shock jolted through her when she heard his voice fill the air between them. Soft and low, but it still broke the silence with a sharp blow.

"Just say 'yes', Aya," he instructed gently, and she felt pure confusion, realizing for once that she had out-waited. "Just tell the truth, and we will go from there."

And the next moment she realized it wasn't any sort of true victory. He had handed her this small battle, because he was after a prize much larger.

Even then it was no 'victory', it wasn't as if he had 'retreated'. He had only pulled back to come at her more forcefully. 'Just say yes', he said. Three letters, one syllable. So simple. She could push the word out, it would even be true.

But this 'go from there'...that was where the true danger lay.

"I...I was thinking about you. But-not like that!" she hurried out that last half, thinking maybe she could find a space between the truth and the lie, and make it okay somehow.

She really should have known better.

"Like how?" he returned calmly, neither triumph in her admission, nor frustration with her quickly added denial. But there was something, another trap sprung by words. She wanted it to stop already! But, at the same time, she couldn't seem to make herself get up. Couldn't make herself push past him and close off this dangerous line of questioning. She sat there and felt as if she might be squirming in her own skin.

"Like...like..." she felt her face heat up, it was practically glowing with embarrassment. _Don't make me say it, Aki! You know what I mean!_ If he even heard her silent plea, she doubted he would answer it. He had been keeping her off-balance all morning. Saying and doing things that she would never have expected. Yesterday.

But, yet again, he seemed to sense her expectations, then completely bypassed them. He didn't elaborate, only gave her a small, amused smile and a strangely coy look through his lashes. She hadn't known that boys could do 'coy', and definitely not so well...

"That's not what I meant, Aya," his voice grew steadily more quiet, more breathy as he spoke, until her name came out no more than a soft whisper. Fingertips feathered slowly up her pant-legs, not really touching her, but moving the cloth. Still, she couldn't guard herself quick enough, couldn't stop the shudder that shot up her spine, and the goosebumps that broke out on her arms.

And of course, sitting as close as he was, observing her so singularly, he didn't miss the reaction. She froze in place, quickly shoving steel into her spine, but not quickly enough. His hands settled gently on the outside of her knees, and they reactively squeezed together.

She felt her breasts tightening and her eyes widened, she quickly brought her arms up to wrap them protectively around her chest. Hating herself for reacting when she knew she couldn't. hoping that he hadn't noticed, but fearing that he had. Under the disguise of her crossed arms, she dug her nails viciously into the sides of her breasts, stinging the soft skin with warning and desperation. How could she even react like this? It wasn't allowed!

"I mean," and his thumbs smoothed over the rough cloth over her kneecaps, fingers slowly sliding back and curving to rub in circles in the soft hollow behind. "How were you thinking about me?"

Her nails dug in harder without her conscious direction, she had never realized how sensitive her knees were, especially the back. The touch was through cloth, and barely there at all, but...it _moved_ her. Just her hips, just a little. But it was enough. Too much. Her temperature spiked, and she suddenly jerked her hands free, slamming them down on his with force.

"Stop it," she demanded breathlessly, curving her fingers around his, and pulling them away from her knees.

But, instead of pulling back at her force, he only caught her left hand once more, holding her wrist firmly, but gently, and pulling it forward. He rested their hands on her knee, and slowly uncurled her fingers. The nails had dug pink crescent moons into her palm. She didn't remember doing that...

Breathless, faltering, not quite focused though she stared at their hands. "You...you are trying to distract me..." _W__hy?_

At the corner of her eye she saw his mouth curve faintly. He ran his fingers lightly over her palm, tracing her abraded flesh with gentle care. "Am I?" he whispered.

She started to answer, then realized he was speaking just like before, leaving his words to hover on the line of ambiguity. If she said 'yes', as she had been about to, he could interpret her answer as confirmation that she was being distracted by him. if she said 'no', he could take it as her saying he was trying to do no such thing.

...

If she answered 'yes' or 'no' at all-well, that was confirmation of her distraction all on its own.

"Aki! You're not being fair!"

He was frustrating before, but this...

His hands tightened on hers when she raised her voice, it seemed an instinctive reaction. "And you...You're not being honest," he countered with that same calmness that belied reaction, or any sort of guilt.

She fairly shook with the frustration. "Do you ever think you might be seeing only what you want to?"

He frowned at that, making it clear that this was an argument he had already had with himself. More than once. And it calmed her, to see him hesitate, to see just a flash of uncertainty.

"Of course," he said, "But I'm also seeing what's there." And he emphasized by pulling her hand closer. "Like the way your breath is so deep and quick." His fingers slid up, over her wrist. They rested innocently on the big vein there, caressed lovingly over it. "The way your pulse keeps jumping when I touch you." He leaned slowly forward, his voice lowering to an intimate whisper, "The way your body tightens and trembles for me..."

She jerked back, tried to pull her hand free, but he held on, his fingers now curving firmly around her wrist. And like an animal in a trap, she struggled harder. And just like a well-crafted trap, he was unmoved, sitting back on his heels and keeping them connected at that one point. Intimacy wiped clean from his face to make way for that forceful confidence he had been showing all morning. It was, at the same time, completely new, and so very familiar.

"These are not reactions I am imagining, or facts that you can just pretend away. They are real, even if you tell yourself you don't want them to be...Just," now a deep breath, as his grip on her loosened, but did not let go. "Just admit that, and we will go from there. We will make sense of this together, Aya. But we can't move forward if you won't take that step with me..."

Her hand went limp in his, hanging bonelessly from the circle of his fingers. She stared sightlessly off to the side as her hair fell in slight disarray over her face. Something about his words, his voice, had caught her more effectively than his hands. Liquid and heat filled her stomach, as her heart beat thick and hard, and strangely slow, rather than speeding up.

"Take that step with me," he whispered, pleaded. She slowly turned her head, slowly lifted her eyes to his. She parted her lips, and a soft tremble shook them, so...so compelling. Should she be so tempted...just by words and voice? So much so that for moments at a time she kept forgetting _why_ this couldn't happen.

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and stared down into his eyes. She felt her eyes sting, but the tears remained only pinpricks of moisture. They didn't blur or fall, she wasn't sure if they were real at all.

"Why...why can't you understand?" a helpless whisper. "I can't take that step, Aki...I just can't. I can't go where it will lead us..."

* * *

tbc..


	66. Break

Break

* * *

Such stubborn light in his eyes, over-taking the gentleness. His hand tightened around her wrist once more, but she wasn't trying to get free now. "But you want to," he said, "Right or wrong, some part of you wants this, wants to take that step...answer me at least that much."

Not a question. What would it really hurt? To speak out-loud what they both already knew. He wasn't going to back-off until he had at least this much from her. So she furrowed her brows as if in pain, made her tears real, and gasped, "Yes."

And then fury filled her, rebelling at the truth in that single innocent word. She shoved away from him, was up and out of the chair and three steps away before she realized she had moved. It was like a frame of action was missing, but the emotions still remained. They boiled within her, searing her with helplessness, and a peculiar sort of rage.

"Yes! Alright! I admit it! You're right, I want that step! I do!" She spun on him, glaring down at him as he steadied himself on his heels and remained kneeling by the chair. "Does that make you happy? To know that? And yes! I was thinking about you the other morning! I haven't thought about anyone or anything else for weeks now! And it's driving me crazy!"

He opened his mouth, and she lunged forward, only a step, but the message was clear. "No! Don't speak! You want the truth, right? Well, here it is! I _want_ you. But I don't want to! Somehow...somehow-" she held her hands out to him with jerky movements, spreading them wide and looking down at them desperately, as if there was something there to see, some physical manifestation of guilt, like they might actually be stained with blood, rather than shaking with adrenaline.

"Somehow! You have infected me with this!—Whatever _this_ is! Does it make you happy? To know I'm terrified, and confused, and my mind is tearing me apart with emotions I wish I didn't have!"

He flinched, wrapping his arms around his stomach and curling tighter around them, and she froze in shock at the slight twinge of vindication and pleasure that filled her chest, trying to twist her lips into a sneer while her heart recoiled in horror. She realized only then that that look of pain from him was what had driven her to speak such words. That some part of her wanted to strike out at him, and keep striking, until he reacted. Until she could see in his appearance the emotions she felt inside.

And it disgusted her so completely, she never would have thought that she was that type of person, the kind that could take pleasure in seeing others suffer. In seeing someone she _loved_ suffer. She never, _never_ would have believed it possible!

_I...I hate myself. Oh, Aki, I hate myself, and not you!_

She took one step, and then another. She fell to her knees beside him and lifted her hands, hesitated. Her hand hovered over his bowed head, his shoulder, and she realized he was shaking, he was crying.

She had made him cry.

Her hands shook, and with fresh tears on her face, she slowly rested them on him, one on his head, and one on his shoulder. He flinched, drawing in tighter.

"I'm so sorry. So-so sorry. Aya, oh god...oh god..." his voice was strained between too much emotion, and tears. He didn't even seem to realize what he was saying, it ran and bled together.

She bowed her head over his, clenching her fingers slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears dripping and falling off her nose. They landed on her hand, his hair.

"Aki,' she whispered, slowly lowering her head and drawing her shoulders in close to her body. She pressed her face into his hair, dragging her hand up to cover her eyes and soaking her tears into his hair. She was leaning weakly against his shoulder now, her body curved over his. "Aki...I'm so sorry..."

He choked at that, made a bitter wet sound that shifted his body beneath hers. It might have been a laugh. Or a sob. "You're sorry?" Another sharp breath from him, and her hands tightened. "Why are you sorry? I'm the monster here! I shouldn't feel this way! I shouldn't try to make you feel this way! I know it's not right-I do! So-so why can't I make myself stop?"

She flinched, pressing closer to him, curling around him as best she could. These were her words, these were the words she had tried to hurt him with. And she had succeeded far past her expectations. She had hurt him. she had hurt _herself_.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed hard, wanting nothing more than to squeeze all the pain out of him, and make it her own. She never wanted to hurt him.

She rocked him slowly, back and forth, she rocked herself. But actions were not going to be enough this time. She had struck out at him with words, now words were possibly the only way she could smooth over the damage she had done.

She quailed, she had never been good at filtering her thoughts and feelings into language. But now...now she had to try. "You're not a monster." The words were soft, but real. Her face pressed into his hair, and she lifted it just enough to open her eyes. Though her gaze was distant and sightless. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, his skin. "I'm so sorry, Aki. I'm so sorry. This isn't your fault. I'm not sure it's anyone's fault. I don't blame you-"

"How can you not blame me? It is my fault!"

"Aki, no!" she turned her face back into his hair, nearly draped herself across his shoulders and soaked those disheveled gold locks with even more tears as she felt him continue to shake, to continue to draw breath far too quickly.

She didn't know what to say, she said the only thing that she could. "We'll get through this," she whispered. Then again, "We'll get through this." A truth. And then a promise. "I am never going to stop loving you."

She didn't have to think about what she was saying. She didn't have to construct her words. She simply spoke what she knew to be the unarguable truth. The tiny kernel within her that remained constant and unchanged while everything else shifted and rearranged.

A hiccuping breath, and she felt him go limp everywhere all at once. She sprawled even more across his back and he shifted slowly, just enough to get one hand free and slide it hesitantly over hers as it rested on his shoulder. She took it a step further and twined her fingers through his. They both seemed to be shaking.

And then he was moving again, turning towards her, she drew back to give him freedom of movement, but did not retreat. Did not let go.

When she was rational, she knew that she could not honestly blame him. falling in love with her-he could not have consciously chosen this path.

"My frustration gets the best of me sometimes, I'm sorry. And sometimes it's hard to remember that...you're not at fault here. Especially when..." she took a hard breath, "Especially when you can be so calm when I can't..."

He lifted his head, and she flinched at the wet mess of his face, the spikiness of his lashes. The way his blue eyes seemed to swim with pain, and vulnerability.

She imagined her face looked much the same, but she forced a tremulous smile anyway, reached out her free hand and pushed the fall of his bangs back, wiped away his tears. "You shouldn't cry," she whispered, "The world isn't right when Aki cries."

He closed his eyes and freed more tears, she caught them, too, and he turned his face gently into the cup of her palm. His lips pressed against her fingers, not a kiss, but she knew he tasted his own tears.

She tilted her head down and leaned forward. Her cheek pressed against his temple as her hand still cradled the opposite side of his face. Their hands were still intertwined, pressed between them in their half-embrace.

That one point of contact conveyed more gentleness than any full-hug could have. Her fingers flexed in his, and his returned the pressure.

"Then Aya has to stop crying," he returned haltingly, "Because I cry when she does..."

She hesitated, only then realizing that she was still dripping salt water on his cheek when he said that. She turned her face into his hair and let it soak up her tears. She took in deep breaths of his familiar scent, and felt it working quickly through her body, calming her nerves.

She heard his breath evening out, and oddly realized that he was doing the same. She thought that maybe it should feel odd, or strange, knowing that he was holding her close and taking in her scent...

And it did feel odd...

But in the same way that so much else about all this did.

He was regaining strength, rebuilding self, and confidence, and she could feel that determination stirring in him like a great sleeping dragon. Not yet fully awake. But soon. And instead of sparking her unease, it...settled her more. It spelled out more frustration and suggestive situations in the future, but it was still..._him_.

It was better than tears. Anything was better than his tears.

She wasn't surprised when he shifted, when his fingers turned and closed gently over hers. When he drew her hand up, almost steadily, and pressed a wet, tear-stained kiss to her knuckles. Leaving his mouth then to linger and sigh.

"I love you," he whispered.

And she soundlessly whispered the words back, because it was only the truth.

* * *

tbc...


	67. Abstract

Abstract

* * *

She lay on her back, right-to-centre of the small bed, and stared up at the ceiling. If she focused really hard she could remember exactly how she had gotten there. The physical, anyway. The mental paths were a little harder for her to map, and those paths were paved with dangerous ideas, so she didn't even try.

Instead she let herself drift on a sea of only physical sensation, and traced her fingers over his arm, again and again. The touch was almost curious. But it lacked conviction and focus. It was a lazy movement that had nothing to do with the conscious, and everything to do with a subtle twinge of defeat.

Physically, they had remained on the floor until all tears had dried, until all the new and old parts of him had been rebuilt and he had grown calmer and calmer. And while he grew more into himself once again, her awareness seemed to grow...outward. Like she was aware, but in a numb sort of way. It was like that good numbness that came after a long, hard cry.

And that wasn't too far from the truth.

There was no argument within her when he got up and carefully drew her to her feet. When he took both her hands and stepped backwards, slowly drawing her to the bed. She followed without protest as he climbed up onto the bed-because there was no protest. There was nothing but that sweet calmness. As she lay prone on the bed, and he slowly followed her down, thighs and hips first before his arms lowered his torso. Before his arms slowly came around her and his face pressed softly against her throat. He breathed deep and soft, and she did too. Not even quickening as his leg slid up and over hers, his thigh resting intimately across her knees.

But nothing within her stirred, she only seemed to settle further. His hand slid up from her waist, skating fleetingly over her chest, then coming to rest feather-light against her throat. His fingers curved gently back into her hair, and he sighed, turning his face into the warm space between her shoulder and her neck. His lips brushed against skin, but not in a kiss. He rested there and breathed deep and sweet against her. A muted shudder snaked its way down her spine. She felt his lips curve faintly, his thumb on the opposite side stroked gently over the sensitive skin right under her jaw.

"Aya.." barely a breath. She closed her eyes and turned her face into his, the lower edge of her cheek pressed against his forehead. And...she must have fallen asleep, because here she was, uncertain of how much time had passed, but seeing clear evidence in the shift of light across the floor from the one window.

Their position was much the same, only he was still asleep, and his hand had shifted to curve around her side, in the space above her hip, and right below her breasts. Her fingertips slid up and down his arm, not set, but seemingly feather-light and...distracted.

_Well_...her inner voice trailed quietly, y_ou're in bed with him. _ _Again_.

She wanted to counter with a 'it's not like that', but she couldn't honestly say that, not when she felt instinctively that some part of it was exactly like that.

It wasn't sexual, no. But it wasn't without its intimacy either.

It definitely wasn't the embrace of siblings.

She wondered if they could even have such embraces again. Would there always be this...awareness between them now?

_I am aware of him, now_.

_My body has somehow...learned the presence of his_.

She couldn't explain what was different. His presence had always meant more to her than others. They were twins, and she had imagined that that had bonded them closer than brother-and-sister, closer than friends. That they held a connection beyond others, that only 'twins' could understand.

And so, she had never been concerned about how sensitive she was to the moods and shifts of his presence. It had only seemed natural, after all. Like they were separate people, but on the edges their souls over-lapped-and that was how it was meant to be.

Maybe...maybe she had been wrong, though. Maybe...she shouldn't be so aware of her own brother. Maybe twins were just siblings, and their bond, this connection she had felt, wasn't meant to be there at all. But...if it wasn't meant to be, then how come it had never felt wrong to her?

So maybe the closeness was right...

When did it go too far? Where was that line drawn?

Was it here?

Her fingers paused in their circling paths.

Was it moments from now, when he woke up and she still lay in his arms?

The reason she couldn't find that line now-was it because they had already crossed it long, long ago?

Her fingers remained, poised and still on his sleeve. She stared at the ceiling, but saw nothing.

_I don't know_.

Her thoughts were too heavy for her to continue floating on the surface of her mind. Like a stone tied to her ankle, they pulled her down. Dragged her back down to that darker space of fear and recrimination.

Her hand now returned to his arm, but only to push it off her. biting her lip, she slid out from under his thigh, carefully scooting to the edge of the bed. It was colder on the edge, but she told herself that's where she wanted to be. She didn't want to be so close to him. To allow him to drag her further and further into the grey area.

She sat on the edge of the bed and her shoulders slowly slumped, her head bowed until her hair fell in tangled locks over her face. Her hands hung limply off the side, wrists barely touching her knees. It was a pose that said something, but she refused to think of that. She refused to think about how many times now she had allowed her will to weaken. And how many decisions she had made, only to contradict a breath later.

_No more_, she thought tiredly, but knew she lied. Not on purpose, but there were too many ambiguities now for her to say anything with any certainty.

She took a deep breath, that raised her shoulders. In through her nose and out through her mouth in a slow sigh.

The bed shifted beneathe her, and she went still in pieces, knew that he had awakened and was sitting up now. Was looking at her back. She hung in that one moment and wondered what he would do. If he would reach out to her, or speak, or drag her back down and hold her arms still as she struggled...

Things had spun so far out of her control, that she didn't even bother trying to predict his behaviours. He would just defy any prediction anyway.

Another shift and slight dip, and then slow, hesitant fingers lighted on her shoulders. They slid slowly inward, curving over the sharp edge of her collarbones. She didn't move, and he gently kneaded into the hardness of her muscles.

She could feel the weight of his body in the air behind her, as if that small space between them was being squeezed thinner and thinner as he pressed against it. His hand slid further inward, drawing soft lines on her throat, her jaw. He slowly tilted her head back, and she let him, blinking her eyes open as she felt him hold her head in place and curve his spine over her.

He looked odd upside down. He looked lazy and warm, and compellingly sensuous in the sleepy daze to his eyes. His lashes came down to veil those eyes, and he crossed the short distance to press a sleepy kiss against her lips. His mouth moved lazily against hers, slow, sensuous tastes, almost enough to draw her in.

But her eyes remained open, staring.

He made a soft, sweet sound in his throat, and her head twitched. She twisted her face left and broke contact, nearly upsetting his balance as his hands slid instantly down to her shoulders to steady himself.

"No," she said calmly, and got up.

He remained kneeling on the bed with his hands limp at his sides. He looked awake now as she turned back to him, awake and thoughtful. She was still caught in that comfortable numbness, Her lips tingled with phantom-pressure, she alternately wanted to rub at them and lick them, but she stared at him without movement, waiting for whatever would come next.

He stared at her as well, seemingly waiting for her to decide how this was going to go. She didn't step into the role, for once the silence didn't make her squirm. That edge of numbness made it easy for her to stand there and let the quiet sluice around her.

He slowly relaxed, slowly sat back on his heels. His hands slid over the tangled covers. He didn't apologize. She understood that he wasn't sorry. She didn't demand guilt, he understood that she had decided to draw the lines of their relationship with that one calm 'no'.

She also understood, as that look continued, but did not grow either way, that he wasn't giving up. He said nothing and everything.

_I'll back off, but I won't back down._

She didn't know how she felt about that. She didn't know how she felt about a lot of things. But she accepted that this was the crossroads that they had come to, and eventually they would take one path or the other.

Hopefully together. Though she honestly couldn't see any other way. She wasn't going to let him go, even if...even if she had to learn how to hold him at arm's length.

That foreign idea twisted in her gut, abraded the very edges of her numbness. But that icy core remained, so she wasn't bothered much.

Further silence. She was content to coast along its smooth surface. He would have to be the one this time, the one to cast words like stones and make the world ripple.

With a slow, precise shift, he slid his legs out from under him, set his feet steadily on the floor and got up. She didn't move, not even to cross her arms. She left them limp and open at her sides, each finger curved.

Somehow, she got the sense that he approved. Now that she was aware of so much, she noticed things she had over-looked before. Like how there was a dual-tone to his presence. Like how he could look at her with desire, and smile at her like a brother. And do both at the same time, without shifting fully into one or the other. And yet, he did both so naturally. She wondered if this was how he had hid it from her for so long.

Because he looked natural in his desire, natural like her best friend and brother. Three lines that should never meet, but somehow weaved seamlessly within him.

It was compelling...his passion, his confidence. She was finally willing to admit to that much at least. She felt that, maybe under this gentle numbness, she was ready to honestly discuss this with him.

But she would not break the silence first.

He did break it, but as usual, not with any words she had expected. "I think we should go out today."

"Out," she echoed, finding it difficult to understand mundane words when she was thinking in so many abstracts.

"Yes," he nodded as if that word needed physical underlining. "Some place together, but with others. Some place away from here, so we can both calm down, and maybe gain some perspective."

She didn't want to agree. She was in the mood to confront this now, but she could not be certain about later. But...his suggestion did appeal to her. A commonground so they both could regain their bearings. It would give him the means to hone his focus, but it also could help her to find her feet.

She didn't quite trust the inviting push of this numbness. If she pushed back, would it break?

"Not the cafe, somewhere where we won't be recognized," she agreed, without actually saying so, and watched curiously as he relaxed.

"There is a dessert shoppe a few blocks away. It will be my treat."

Why did it feel as if they were setting down the ground rules for some sort of duel?

"Fine," she said, but couldn't help but add, "It's not a date."

He gave her a half-smile at that, the visible curve of it clearly amused, but the other half turned down in something more solemn. It was a strangely self-mocking look. "I understand," he said. And he obviously did, she just wasn't certain if they were both on the same page in their understanding.

Did they even see the same world anymore?

"I'll wait here," he prompted, and she realized he was fully dressed while she was still wearing her nightclothes. Both of them bore the marks of dishevelment, however, in hand-mussed hair, and wrinkled cloth, and...swollen lips.

Forty-eight hours ago, and all she could claim was a stolen kiss to seal her into silence. Now she had stolen kisses and stolen hours, and the impression of hands on her body. In odd moments...she could still feel them...like his desire was a ghost that hovered around her.

Like his desire was a ghost-so strong that she feared it might possess her.

_I've had enough of possession..._

A firm statement, but it didn't quite connect with her thoughts. But she wasn't really worried. Her thoughts didn't seem quite connected anyway.

"I'll get ready," but she still hesitated. There was a strange urge within her, to just stand and stare. Maybe she feared movement. Maybe she feared that moving would shift something, and break her queer calm.

That thought was enough of a prompt. If this resolution was that weak, she needed to know now. Better now then to find out later, when she was in the middle of a situation more precarious.

She turned on her heel and went to the dresser, blindly digging out an outfit and underwear. She smiled grimly as she pushed the top drawer in, remembering a moment that had seemed so long ago. There wouldn't be anymore borderline flirting like that.

At least...she hoped not.

She wondered, not for the fist time, if her behaviour had been as innocent as she liked to think...

Dangerous thoughts, and she was just disconnected enough from her own mind to allow them.

They only tasted of sincerity.

* * *

tbc...


	68. Waver

Waver

* * *

There was even something different about their walk. Part of her felt the urge to trail behind him, but he didn't allow it. When she slowed, he slowed, when she lengthened her stride, he followed. She stayed to his left, kept a steady foot of distance between them. Even in the moments when he edged closer to her.

It was strange, being so aware of another. Every movement caught and held her attention, even just out of the corner of her eye. His every shift, no matter how small, pulled on her attention, like a puppeteer pulling on a string.

It was nerve-wracking, she just wanted to relax. She wanted...she wanted the easy comfortablity they had before. But she didn't know how to get back to that. She didn't know if it was even possible.

So intent she was on visually tracking him, that she stubbed the toe of her shoe on a seam in the sidewalk. Her natural grace kicked in, of course, and she stumbled forward.

Aki caught her, steadied her. "Careful," he whispered, and she noticed the adrenaline of her fall was a lot like the feeling she got when he had verbally cornered her that morning. That same tingling jolt that shook in her hands.

Her arm was bent, pressed in a firm line against his chest. One of his was around the small of her back. His other hand grasping the inner curve of her shoulder, fingers wind-kissed and resting against the side of her throat. Her skin seemed especially hot against his, having been protected from the cold by the warm fall of her long hair.

She shuddered at the chill. hung her head and refused to lift it those few inches that would turn her face up to his. She could feel the warm mist of his breath on her hair. Looking up now, she knew, would be inviting _something_...

She wasn't sure what, but she could already feel it building in the air around them, the longer she leaned against him.

Pulling away was harder than she would have thought. It was so cold, and he was so warm. And so very willing to share that warmth with her.

Weeks ago she would have happily took what he offered, and not thought twice about it. Now she moved to place her hand on the flat plane of his chest, and...hesitated. Her arm locked to push away, but she did not move for a long second.

Acting only as his sister-was even that dangerous? She didn't know what was allowed, and what wasn't.

To use a variation of his own words-it's only as 'suggestive' as he wants to make it.

Unfortunately, he clearly wasn't going to play fair.

_I__n his defense_, her inner-voice roused pleasantly, _this situation is so far outside of the framework of 'common', that the normal rules cannot be applied. If you consider similar situations, as for example, 'love', and then apply those rules here, then..._

Smugness. It didn't need to finish.

The old phrase, 'all's fair...' echoed like a bell-strike in her mind.

_S__top it_, she snapped, and pushed away from him.

His arms stretched with her move, hands holding on. At the second after the very last, he let her go and stepped back.

"You're freezing," he said, not addressing the 'moment' that almost happened, and instead carrying on as if he hadn't even recognized it.

At the same time, a subtle flavour to his words belied such ignorance. As if he only ignored it for her sake.

Too, too many undercurrents were pulling at her now. She was trying desperately to swim, while he seemed just as content to drown.

"Well, it is cold out here," she muttered the obvious. Distracted, and really, really wishing she wasn't.

"Come here," he said, lifting his arm in invitation.

She paused, giving him a completely startled look before she could stop herself. Did he really expect her to come over there and 'nestle under his wing'? Attach herself to his side?

Exasperation flashed across his eyes, threaded with subtle hurt, and a touch of self-mockery. His expressions were becoming so mixed, or maybe...he was showing all the emotions he had kept repressed for so long.

Or maybe, she just knew what she was seeing now.

"Aya, we're on a moderately busy street-what exactly do you expect me to do to you?"

That was a rhetorical question, right? Besides..."I don't know. You keep...keep..._trying_, even after I've said 'no'."

"Because you only half-mean that 'no'. If that."

She opened her mouth to sputter in outrage, but he quickly cut her off.

"And it's called 'testing boundaries'. If I recall, I stopped every time, as soon as you protested."

He said that so calmly, so...reasonably. She stared at him with wide, wide eyes. She alternated between bitter laughter, and a strange urge to fall to her knees and cry. "You keep doing it..." a raspy whisper, it almost hurt her throat to utter it.

Now a gentle look, full of warmth and even a little sadness. "Aya, you keep hesitating. Every time you protest, you hesitate beforehand...and every time that moment of hesitation grows longer. I'm in love with you-you can't expect me to ignore something like that."

Soft words. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Stop saying that!" Her stance bordered on combative. Her tone was all plea. Every time he said that, she felt like she was stumbling again.

He tilted his head with a look of curiosity. It wasn't real. "Saying what?" He knew exactly what he was saying. He knew, and she knew.

"That...that you _love_ me." Her hands remained in fists, but now she crossed them over her stomach and looked away. The wind stung her cheeks.

He stepped forward, took her hands gently and uncrossed them. Her fingers were numb from the cold, he pressed them together between his hands and rubbed them.

She caught herself in the hesitation this time, and knew if she pulled away now it would only prove him right. So she left her hands limp between his, and the friction slowly warmed them. He couldn't accuse her of hesitating if she didn't pull away.

It was bad enough that she was aware of it.

It was still a relief, however, to regain feeling in her hands. This didn't have to mean anything more than that.

"I keep saying it," he answered calmly, "because I know how denial works. I won't let you pretend my feeling aren't real, Aya. We can only work through this by facing the truth."

There was a prompt in his eyes, as if he was telling her more than he was saying.

He's saying I need to face the truth of my own feelings. Not just his.

But she couldn't...

There wasn't...

She wished he hadn't used that word, 'hesitation'. It kept sticking in her mind.

Because he was right. Hesitation was a confession all on its own. "What truth are you looking for here, Aki," she finally asked. "I already told you that-I'm attracted to you. I don't know..." she tried to draw her hands back, but he pressed them firmly between his and held on. She didn't really try all that hard. "I don't know what you expect from me."

He opened his mouth, maybe to answer, but she knew she didn't really want those words. So she firmly over-rode his voice with, "Whatever it is, I can't give it. I'm sorry, Aki, but I just can't."

And strangely enough, she _was_ sorry. Very, very sorry. She loved him and wished desperately for his happiness.

But...but it wasn't...her?

He relaxed slightly. "I understand," he said again, and she got the distinct feeling once more that they were both talking at two different levels.

"You understand what?" She wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. This...insinuating what he wanted, and ignoring what she was really saying.

There was an insinuation there, right?

He smiled at her, released one of her hands, and then pulled the other. He guided her forward a few steps before letting go of her hand, but only to slide his arm around her shoulders and pull her against his side. "Let's get to the shop, and get you out of this cold-"

Strangely un-forced cheer in his voice. She cut it off sharply by placing both her hands on his side and trying to push distance between them. "Aki! Stop it!"

"Stop what," he asked, but didn't let her go, and he didn't answer her question.

And his question was good enough on its own. Was she telling him to let her go, stop leaving so many of their words open to interpretation? Or stop hearing her own words only in the ways that he wanted?

She couldn't decide which one she wanted most, or even how to express that want clearly. Her words seemed a thread that just seemed to tangle more and more.

He pulled a little more firmly on her shoulder, and her hand slid over his side, skewing his jacket and actually slipping into the part where he had only zipped it half-way up. She started, nearly freezing in place when she realized she was half-embracing him now.

"Aki!" she demanded, trying fruitlessly to untangle herself from him. He didn't help, what with his cheerful undermining of her attempts.

"Oh, stop," he sighed when she dug her nails into his side one too many times. "Aya, I'm not going to _do_ anything, okay? Look, we're almost there."

She hesitated, lifting her head to see a prim, little shop a little ways ahead of them. The front was all snow-dotted windows and rose-coloured trim. The sidewalk looked icy and cold compared to the gold light and sanguine faces inside.

Resigning herself to his arms for the last few steps, she unclenched her nails from his side, and slid her hand up and over so it was resting in a less suggestive place.

Though she wasn't sure if right of his heart was a better place. Her hand was still in his coat, but not buried so far down.

* * *

tbc...


	69. Candid

Candid

* * *

He opened the door with its tinkling chime, and ushered her in, bundling her closer in the pretense of shaking of the last vestiges of cold. With his arm around her, and her face turned against his shoulder, she peeked through her hair and felt anxiously exposed. Strangely it made her turn and press closer to him. As if to hide.

He seemed content with her sudden cuddling. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the wait-staff glance at them, and then away with an indulgent smile. Only then did she fully realize the picture they made. But it was too late to do something about it.

He took her to the nearest booth, and then slowly untangled them. Reaching in and sliding her hand out of his jacket, but by way of dragging it teasingly across his chest, then lifting it for a quick kiss. She gave him an owlish look, aware that they were in public, and what the hell was he doing?

But no one started pointing at them wildly, no one cast them looks of disgust. He helped her into the booth, but still kept her hand in his, he squeezed it gently and brought her wide eyes back to him.

"Relax," he whispered, "No one knows who we are, Aya."

She didn't relax, her hand was limp and clammy in his. This wasn't a good idea. _Somebody was going to know._

And her behaviour was hemmed in, as long as she didn't want to call attention to them. Was that his intention...? She lifted her eyes and stared at him as he settled into the booth, directly across from her. She was at a distinct disadvantage here, because she wasn't willing to cause a scene, but he was clearly unconcerned with an audience. She looked around, seeing animated faces and pleasant chatter, and feeling _hunted_.

He sighed again. "Please try to relax," he stressed, and her head swung in his direction. This wasn't a date-this had a definite 'date' feel. "Look," he said earnestly, placing his elbows and forearms on the small table and leaning forward on them. "I'll buy you a fruit parfait-it's your favourite, right? A nice, big one with a dessert spoon and everything. I hear their parfaits are pretty good..."

She was distracted at that, parfaits _were_ her favourite. She loved the cream and the fresh fruit, and the long spoon with its dainty scoop always amused her. She knew her eyes lit up, because he smiled happily, and instantly turned to seek out a waiter to place their order.

She didn't protest as he ordered her treat, and a pot of hot tea. She didn't even flinch as the kindly lady who filed their order smiled nostalgically at them both before heading up to the counter.

She didn't relax, but she squirmed on her bench with barely suppressed anticipation. Date or not, she couldn't ever get herself to consider turning down a free parfait.

But something was bothering her. It took her a few minutes to figure out what. She went slowly still, then looked at him directly. "Aki, what are we doing here?"

"Hmm," he said with a clear note of soft indulgence. He wasn't good at feigning ignorance, so he clearly wasn't even going to try. He lifted his eyes to her, and took point in a game that she usually led.

It wasn't so amusing when the shoe was on the other foot. "Aki, what are we doing?" she stressed.

A head-tilt and deliberately innocent smile. "We are having a nice afternoon away from the apartment," he said pleasantly.

How difficult it was, feeling like you and your conversational part were stuck in two different gears. Especially when one was refusing to shift down only out of some sense of tease. Or wish to be difficult.

So he was only going to answer her questions in the strictest sense of the word. And completely ignore the _true_ essence of their meaning. Fine. She could play from this side of the board.

She could beat him at this game by taking on his role.

All day he had been spitting out 'truth' and 'confrontation'. Her frustration and anxiety were brewing into a dangerous cocktail. She relaxed back against her seat, slid her hands along the smooth tabletop, and lowered one should in an elegant slump.

She knew she had his whole attention by the way he slowly looked away. She let the silence ride for one long moment.

"I want you."

His head swung in her direction, his eyes widening.

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in such a way that her bangs fell over the edge of her left-eye. Her voice was barely a whisper, but she spoke clearly. "The things you did to me the night before...mmm..." She lifted one hand from the table and placed it at the base of her throat. She slid it slowly down. "I've never felt like that before."

He was breathing slightly hard, but he was trying not to. She watched him straighten in his seat, watched him try to control it.

"Aya, what are you doing?" Such a weakened voice. almost a plea.

She looked at him through her lashes, through a sensuous smile. "Mmm?"

Her echo of his previous answer seemed to rouse him from his surprise. He caught his balance, and she saw him do it. Maybe he was ready to stop playing games...

"You want to talk about truth," he said slowly, then took a more serious pose on the other side of the table. "Now?" he added, injecting a note of challenge to it.

Something in her suddenly cautioned. Something about his tone said that maybe he was _too ready_ to stop playing games...

"Fine," he said, and she realized she was sitting rigid in her relaxed pose. "If we break things down into their simplest forms, here it is. You want me. I want you. You love me. I love you. We have the means and the will to be together, and that's what I want." He leaned slightly across the table, lowering his voice, but not diminishing any of the force to it. "I want to _be with you_, Aya. Any way. Every way. I want to be your brother."

She started at that, wanting to look around, but not being able to look away from him.

"And I want to make love to you."

...

"You want that, too. Don't you, Aya? You want to know what it feels like to have me inside you..."

Her hands were numb, she could feel the beginnings of some strange separation in her head.

"Tell me about my taste. Tell me what you meant when you said that. What were you talking about?"

She shoved back against the seat, pushing away, but of course, not getting anywhere. It was a reactive move, nothing that had to do with thought or logic.

This whole situation seemed made of the same stuff.

"Wha...what?" she breathed. It wasn't a question. It was an exclamation.

"My taste," he pronounced clearly, and she wished he hadn't. She wished she had let him play his innocence-game, because this...was anything but. She still couldn't think properly.

"Friday night," he said, then cast her a somewhat sly look, "Or should I say, Saturday morning? You said a few things that I didn't quite understand. You said you could still _taste me_. What did you mean?"

She just stared at him in a dull sort of horror.

He lifted his right hand, slid his thumb across his bottom lip. "Did you kiss me?"

She blinked at him. She had kissed him, but that wasn't what she had been talking about. He had...she could feel her cheeks slowly beginning to sting with fresh blood and heat.

He observed her staring back at him, and nodded slowly, seemingly to himself. "When?" he asked, and she realized he had read her stunned silence as a positive answer.

She looked quickly away, because 'a kiss' was not what was in her eyes. She bit the inside of her lip hard to keep from licking it, to keep herself from remembering the taste of him on her tongue. But it was a memory she had yet to escape.

To have his secret exposed at such a depth, without his knowing...

She had exposed a secret of her own that night. It had just taken her so long to realize it...

"When," he prompted again. "Don't I have a right to know?" His voice turned calm, coaxing. Reasonable. Her fingers curled into the coarse material of her skirt beneathe the table. The trouble was, something in her agreed with him. He did have a right to know. But she didn't really think he had a right to ask. There were answers that people deserved, but they were in conjunction to questions they were not allowed to ask. Not in proper society.

But she knew she was going to answer him. Not because he deserved to know, or because he asked, but because this subject, despite its dangers, was still so much safer than that other. She would happily never speak of that. Wasn't it enough that it was hardened in her mind, like a scene trapped in resin?

Biting her lip, she slowly lifted her eyes to his. Like him, she decided to ignore the existence of an outside world. This part of the world wasn't going to matter to them in an hour's time. Still, she kept her voice soft, and tried to willfully push peoples' attention away.

"I did kiss you." He had already decided that, but she felt she should verbally confirm it before trying to explain.

Not that she _could_ explain.

"When?" She shook her head slightly, "I can't remember exactly when. Some night, the middle of last week." Then she frowned again, as it truly puzzled her. That kiss shifted in and out of focus in her mind, as if she was trying to remember a distant dream.

The shock she had felt afterward, however, was very, very real.

"The time is a little weird in my mind," she said honestly, then realized she had dropped her eyes to stare blankly at the table between her hands. She forced them up again, wondering what it meant, that it wasn't so hard this time. That she even felt a measure of calm, and distance, now that she was speaking.

"I was having a dream, you see," she heard herself say, and he frowned. But it wasn't a negative expression, it was just a look of concentration and curious consideration. There was a slight look to his eyes that said he hadn't expected her to speak so candidly.

And, as always, his 'surprise' buoyed her.

"And i woke up in the night," there was a duality to her words, part of her was speaking of the kiss. Part of her was held in place next to the futon while his hand mimicked the rise and fall of 'her body'.

"You were still asleep, and...I think I was, too. I felt like I was asleep, you see. And you...you were in the futon, and I leaned over you. And...something." She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. There was a strange drifting feeling inside her. Like she was a balloon on a string, and the breeze was gently swaying her from side to side.

A softer voice, he leaned over the table to hear. There was a strange look in his eyes...strange in that she almost recognized it. Her eyes were open again. "Something...I don't know. I covered your lips with mine, and it...wasn't _quite_ a kiss. Not at first. Then you breathed, and I parted my lips...and..."

And there was the answer, the prefix to 'taste'. His hands were splayed on the table as he unconsciously leaned over it. His eyes swallowed by darkness until the blue was little more than a halo around the pupil. His lips were parted, and he was taking shallow, distracted breaths.

His look startled her, slightly, in that distant part of her that was still grounded. It wasn't quite a steady look. There was something..._dazed_ in his eyes.

_Lust_, her inner-voice corrected her. _That's what that look is. Sweet, fierce lust. Like a fur-edged knife, a sharp flash of light through the body, that leaves the mind spinning in a daze. You've been there before...haven't you?_

If an inner-voice could have a mouth, she imagined it would be curled wickedly in a smirk. She sat still and didn't know how to react.

He pushed back from the table, shifted in his seat and did a slow look away. She watched him pull his bottom lip in his mouth and distractedly taste it. He released it by way of dragging it through his teeth.

His next breath was slower, deeper.

"And...I didn't wake up?" he spoke quietly, there was a soft sort of disbelief to his voice. _His voice_...it had the quality of ripped velvet. Rich and thick, and shredded by emotional claws.

"No," she mouthed, barely a sound at all. The sound of his voice was doing something strange to hers...

He swallowed, closed his eyes, then turned his head slowly back to her. His fingertips slid across the smooth tabletop, a strangely tender gesture, but they slowly closed together, and there was something almost possessive about it. He opened his eyes and the daze was gone. They still remained dark and swimming with desire, but now there was a dangerous focus to it.

"Why," he said, and there was no lilt of question to it. There was a push behind that one word that would accept no less than an answer.

"Why..." she blinked at him, the demand not processing in her mind at all.

His fingers tightened, "Don't, Aya. You know what I'm asking. _Why._"

She did know, and that's why her head had blanked so suddenly...

* * *

tbc...


	70. Flirt

Flirt

* * *

She opened her mouth to attempt an answer, and a tall frosted glass layered with fruit and cream suddenly appeared before her. Magic. Both her and Aki jerked back, startled. She took in the unique sight of her brother looking uncharacteristically like a fish out of water, but could not truly appreciate it as she tried to remember how to breathe herself.

The waitress cast them apologetic looks only slightly twinged with amusement. "I'm really sorry," she apologized, placing a steaming pot of tea on the table, followed by the necessary utensils. "And I'm really sorry about the wait."

Aya didn't even really hear her, she nodded distractedly and watched Aki run both his hands through his hair, catching the gold locks between his fingers and holding them back from his face. She watched his hold tighten, pulling tighter, sharper, and she frowned.

_Don't, Aki..._

He let his hair go, and looked at their waitress. His face was blank. "Thank you," he said and Aya could not be sure that he meant it. She could not be sure that she even echoed it. She felt even further adrift than before.

The waitress performed the customary smile and nod, and then she was gone, and Aya couldn't be bothered to see where she went. Aki turned over the cup on her saucer and poured her tea. Mixed in two spoons of sugar. Then he poured his own, only mixing in one. He lifted his cup and took a sip, though it didn't seem to go down smoothly. He followed it with another sip, not giving up. And that's when she realized she was staring at him. She looked away.

And of course, he looked at her. The tea seemed to fortify him. There was a more aware level to his eyes now. A calmer shift. Only then did she realize how deeply out of control the situation had momentarily become. Only now, when a measure of focus had returned to his eyes.

It was a dangerous game they played. And it wasn't quite done.

"Why," he prompted a third time, his tone more even, though no less demanding. She knew he would stall the conversation at this point until she answered him, one way or the other.

She reached out a finger and placed it on the end of her dessert spoon. She tilted it one way, and then the other. She shifted her reasoning from one side to the other.

"Why did I kiss you?"

He didn't answer, it wasn't really a question for him, and they both knew it. She was asking herself.

"I...I honestly don't know." Why was there a sting in her eyes, like the want of tears suddenly? She didn't feel like crying.

A moment of silence, she didn't look at him. This was the only truth she knew.

"Shall we play our question game again," he inquired quietly.

A slightly metallic scratch as her finger slid off the spoon. She grit her teeth. "I'm telling the truth!"

Calmer now. "I believe you," he said, but he took another sip of his tea, and began anyway. "You said you felt like you were asleep-how do you mean?"

She pressed her lips together tightly. She didn't want to do this.

"Aya?"

"Exactly like I said," she burst out quietly. "I didn't consciously say, 'oh, I'm going to kiss Aki.' I just got up and...did it." Now she quieted. "I...there wasn't really any thoughts in my head, nothing pushing me...so how can I explain my reasons why? I don't know!"

"I believe you," he repeated.

"So why do this?" She really didn't understand him. Or herself. She couldn't even think straight.

He placed his cup on the saucer and took up the teapot again. She hadn't even touched her tea. Or her parfait. She didn't particularly want it.

"Because there _is_ a reason, even if you aren't consciously aware of it now," he explained logically, and she frowned.

There was a reason. She had thought of reasons that night. What had she thought? "I wanted to understand you. I wanted to understand why you...felt like that about me?" Was that the reason? No, something about it felt like an excuse...

"And that's another thing," he said with that same unnerving serenity. "How did you even find out I am in love with you?"

Oh, hell no. She stared at him with wide eyes and knew she wasn't going to answer that question. No force in the universe could push that truth past her lips.

A slight smile, his eyes were still dark. "Don't worry, we'll come back to that question later. Now, you kissed me...because you wanted to understand me?"

When he said it like that-it sounded stupid. Like a weak attempt at self-deception that didn't work at all.

She didn't have a better answer.

"Yes..."

"Do you?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Do I what?"

He tilted his chin down slightly, making his words nearly a breath, "Understand me."

He was teasing her!

"No," she snapped, "I don't understand you at all!"

Now he tilted his head back. "I think what you're having a real problem with is that _you do_. You do understand me, exactly in the ways that I understand you."

There he went again! Speaking one thing and meaning another! She hated when he did that! She hated this game that wasn't a game!

"Stop doing that," she whispered, and he raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Mock-inquiry.

"Don't, Aki. You know _what!_" she echoed and mocked him right back.

He smiled gently. Then he reached across the table and...took her parfait. She stared at him. "It tastes better when it's cold," he said by way of explanation.

She hadn't really wanted it anymore, but seeing him take it made her want to reach out and take it back. He slid his hand back for the spoon, and she slammed her own down over it. Not even thinking. He looked at her curiously, but did not pull back his hand.

After a long moment where she wondered what exactly she was doing, and why it mattered, she slowly lifted up the spoon and gave it to him. Her fingers didn't want to quite let go.

His pull back to his own side was cautious...That wasn't quite the right word. She had no idea what he was thinking. He scooped out a small bite of the dessert and slid it into his mouth. His eyelashes half-lowered but did not close completely. It was like he _wanted_ to close his eyes and focus on the taste, but he couldn't force himself to stop watching _her_.

why?

He drew the spoon out of his mouth slowly, and she saw his tongue follow along the curve of the scoop. "This is really good," he said. He picked a strawberry slice off the top and popped it into his mouth. Cream had gotten on his fingertips, and she watched him slowly bring them back to his lips and suck them clean.

There was a strange sort of trembling deep in her stomach. And the memory of his mouth on her...

Her hands curled into fists.

"Do you want some?"

Her eyes shot up to his, wide with just the beginnings of comprehending those words. But he was holding the spoon out to her invitingly, pure innocence in his eyes. "I think you'll like it."

Okay...was he flirting with her? She really couldn't tell.

"Come on, Aya, one little taste? You won't regret it, I promise."

She frowned hard at him, hearing the definite note of tease to his voice now. His words had taken on the tone of something that should be whispered in the dark, of lips brushing tantalizingly over an ear. When she heard it, she had an image of exactly that. Of him, pressed against her side in the dark, warm fingers resting on her throat as his mouth formed words that brushed against the sensitive shell of her ear. She shuddered.

He continued to hold the dessert out to her, tilting his head. She reached for the spoon, but he quickly drew it back. "Ah-ah," he murmured, then leaned further over the table to bring the spoon closer to her mouth.

This was beginning to get ridiculous. She leaned forward and parted her lips while reaching for his hand at the same time. She allowed him to hold it, but she _needed _to control it. He didn't protest this compromise, allowed her to guide his hand.

It was only as the spoon was drawing slowly back across her lower lip that she realized that her hand was holding his around the long handle, and there was intimacy _here_.

She quickly let go of his hand and nearly choked on the cream when she swallowed. She didn't taste it. It didn't exist. She didn't even notice as she watched his eyes turn blatantly lustful, he brought the spoon directly back to his mouth and licked the last traces of the cream away from it. And whatever traces of her taste that still remained.

An indirect kiss.

He returned to the parfait for more. "Speaking of kisses," he picked up again as if they had never been interrupted. "We still have yet to get to the bottom of _yours_."

After the roller-coaster of emotions, half of which she wasn't even willing to name, she could barely conjure up a reaction for him. She picked up her now cold tea just to give her hands something to do besides shake. Or clutch at her hair. She took a sip and flinched at the coldness. Tea wasn't meant to be cold. She didn't understand iced tea at all. She placed the cup down again, but left her hand on it.

"What is there to get at? I already told you, Aki. I don't know." Her response was succinct now. She flicked her eyes to her parfait and wanted it back. But she wasn't going to ask. Letting him have it did not seem quite as bad as asking for it back. Somehow.

She was sick of all the double meanings. She was even beginning to second-guess herself.

* * *

tbc...


	71. Hitch

Hitch

* * *

Of course, he countered her calmly, nibbling on another strawberry. He seemed to have a preference. "You _do_ know. Even if it's not _consciously_. Or acceptable." He added that last part as if an after-thought, and she realized that it so wasn't. It was really what he was saying. He was speaking backwards in order of importance.

Not acceptable...Well, that was this whole situation, wasn't it?

He had already decided on an answer for her kiss. She wet her lips, then spoke it out-loud. "I'm attracted to you. That's the explanation you want, right? That that kiss was the result of some desire? Well, I can't say that. I can't say that because I honestly don't know. I really felt like I was sleep-walking at the time. By the time I realized what I was doing, I had already kissed you, then ran away to hide in the bathroom."

Silence from him, she didn't know what to make of it.

"You're really being candid with me now, Aya. I really appreciate it."

The question of 'why', remained silent. As did her answer. Being in public, for some reason it gave her a sense of safety. Though clearly that was just an illusion, on the verbal and emotional scale.

Physically, she was safe from his advances. Safe from trying to process and/or repress her own reactions.

He probably understood all that. That was probably his intentions here. It was a subtle form of manipulation, if she chose to think about it that way. She chose to think about it in the way of him trying to put her at ease.

Something prodded far back in her mind that that could be a form of manipulation all on its own.

"I am trying to be honest, to the best of my ability." Then she shook her head slightly. "But you need to accept that sometimes the truth is not what you are going to want. You can't just dismiss it as lies, or confusion, when it doesn't coincide with what you want to hear." He needed to understand that. She really hoped it was true. It made her feel shaky, to think that he might be completely right.

He sat for a long moment with the empty scoop of the spoon pressed against his bottom lip, seemingly savouring the dessert, but she knew he was digesting her words.

Or maybe he was sifting through them, pushing the ones he could use to the front, and shoving all the rest back.

For a long moment she sat and felt it again. That feeling of being...hunted.

He finally put the spoon down and looked at her directly. She knew he was serious again. Aki was dangerous when he was serious. "I want to be with you," he repeated his previous words, taking them full-circle back to the beginning of this conversation. "I am trying to be careful, trying to make sure that my feelings are not blinding me. I admit, it hasn't been easy. Especially when the nature of your 'truth' keeps changing. You are hesitating, Aya."

She wanted to look away, but he wouldn't let her.

"_That_ is the truth. And that tells me that you want this, too. That you want to be with me, too. _You are in love with me._"

"...Aki, no..."

He smiled at her, just a gentle curve of lip. Something an adult would give a child. "Aya, yes."

Socked toes slid up the inside of her ankle under the table. He had slid his foot out of his shoe. She froze in place and stared at him.

"Out here, in this world away from the Mikages, we can be whoever we want to be...Don't you...want to be the one I want?"

And she did, in a strange, inexplicable way. She admired Aki so much, to be precious to him...one would have to be very special. Very special, and very lucky. She was flattered. Despite the inappropriateness of such feelings.

She felt stuck in gear. Like part of her heard his words and was picking them apart for meaning, while another part of her could only feel his foot wrapped around her ankle. No longer moving, just holding in place.

He smiled at her again. "Hesitating, Aya."

A little hitch in her breath, she quickly slid her foot up and out from under his. "I'm not 'hesitating', you are distracting me." There was a force of accusation to that, a thin layer barely covering the pleading.

He propped his elbow up on the table, leaning his chin in the cradle of his hand. His bangs fell over his eyes-a strangely winsome look. "Am I now?" Not quite a whisper, and definitely not a question. Soft, indulgent amusement.

She frowned at him. "Don't patronize me, Aki."

It didn't achieve anything, the look continued. There was almost a...dreaminess to it. "Aya, you are so cute sometimes."

This wasn't working. They weren't getting anywhere. Neither of them were making an effort to compromise, and he kept randomly...flirting with her. He _was_ flirting with her. Serious one moment, serious the next, but in the breaths between...

_So this is 'Aki-in-love'_, her inner-voice pondered, giving every impression of a curious head-tilt.

Then it came to a decision. _It looks good on him._

Her eyes widened, and his smile shifted, clearly thinking she was reacting to his comment.

_Don't say that._

Feigned curiosity, _you don't think so?_

_No_, she muttered in clear upset.

"Only sometimes?" that was a patented 'Aya-answer'. And one she would have refrained from giving had she been paying attention. He brightened instantly, sat up in his bench.

"Well, now..."

_He's acting more confident, aggressive...You don't think these qualities attractive?_

_I didn't say that-_

She really didn't. It was grudging, but she had to admit, under different circumstances, she would see these as very desirable traits.

In someone else.

Someone not..._him_.

_There you go again, put the words 'my brother' from your mind, okay?_

_I can't do that! _She was going to hyperventiliate.

_Why? Scared?_

"Definitely 'only sometimes'," he said, catching her attention. She looked at him in confusion.

_What?_

_What_, her inner-voice echoed.

He placed the tip of his middle finger on the table, then slowly drew a small circle, watching the invisible line form. Then he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. His chin remained down-tilted, and the look seemed to take on a whole new depth of tone.

She wasn't going to name it.

"Because sometimes you are so sexy I can hardly breathe..."

She was having trouble breathing, _right now_...

"And sometimes you are so sweet that I feel like I'm swelling up with emotion..."

He drew another circle, even slower this time. She stared at the movement of his hand, and felt her heart beating, thick and deep. And...bigger. Like it had somehow stretched into her limbs. Her stomach...her...Her knees turned inward, her hands curling into fists.

"And sometimes your just so..._exasperating_ that all I want to do is just grab you, and-well-"

She stared at him, breathless and riveted as he cast her a coy look. Why was he talking like this? People weren't _suppose_ to talk like this! _(Especially not Aki. Especially not to me!)_

"Well, I'm not quite sure."

And she didn't quite believe that, but she was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to handle that answer right now.

"Aki..."

Why? Why had she said his name? Why had she said it like that, thick and lost? She hadn't meant to say it at all.

His hand went still, his fingers splaying on the table. There was a soft scratching sound as he dug his nails in slightly. "I wish we weren't here, Aya," he whispered, she felt as if she was hearing only half of it. "I wish we were back at the apartment. Somewhere private, somewhere where we don't have to worry about what others think. Where I can touch you, _really _touch you. I _really_ want to touch you right now..."

She slowly sat back in her bench, her spine going so tense and still that she could feel a sharp ache in her neck. "A place like that doesn't exist, Aki."

What he was asking for...it couldn't be...?

"It can, if we want it to, Aya."

She said what she had to. The words had the taste of dust. "I don't want it to." No hesitation. But no conviction either.

He smiled at her again. "You lie."

How could he just say that? How could he be so certain?

"You don't get to decide that, Aki."

"You lie," he repeated just as firmly. No, more firmly.

Was it lie? How could she not know? How could she not know herself?

He leaned forward, pushing the parfait off to the side because it didn't matter anymore. It had only mattered because she had wanted it. "Come home with me," he said. "We will work through this together."

He said that, but she didn't forget what he had said moments before. And she knew he knew that. He was the one now offering that she read his words however she wished.

So what did it mean, that she heard temptation in that offer? An invitation...

"You will try to seduce me again," she whispered haltingly. There was a shaking deep in her stomach. She was afraid it was going to travel through her words. She was afraid he would hear it and know what it meant, even when she didn't.

He didn't draw back at that, he didn't treat it as an accusation. "Yes," he said simply, then tilted his head with an absolute lack of guile. There was something almost innocent to his features. He didn't continue, didn't try to excuse or explain. It was the truth.

_How do I combat that? He's not leaving it open to compromise._

_Because he's being honest..._Her inner-voice prompted, as if his honesty should command hers.

_I have been honest, _she countered. _What do you want from me?_ It was a painful twist in her head. She didn't know if she was speaking to herself, or him. She didn't know.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Again, she didn't know who she was speaking to. She had an uneasy feeling that it was herself, and not him.

There was no answer within, but he sighed. "You know why, Aya."

_Because you love me...?_

Was that it? The depth of his reason?

"Come home with me," he repeated, less insinuation to it, but the seriousness was even more unsettling.

She hesitated, but knew she had to go back sometime. She still felt wary of being in public. But she was also wary of being alone with him...

She took a deep breath and pushed her tea away. "Okay." She wasn't afraid of her brother. Wariness and fear were _not_ the same thing.

He didn't smile or reply. He got up and paid for their drinks and parfait. He smoothed down his coat, zipped up hers, then put his arm around her and turned back to the door. That casually.


	72. Lead

Lead

* * *

Their reflections in the shoppe windows on the street did not show them. When she turned her head she caught the passing glance of a gold couple. She didn't push off his arm, didn't struggle. She caught them in every smooth and reflective surface, and didn't quite understand the picture they made.

She didn't drag her feet, but she didn't hurry either. The path ahead of her had taken another unknown turn. They were going home. She had no idea what to expect. And it was as if her mind was standing empty, waiting for something to happen so she could react.

That wasn't like her. _She made things happen_. She didn't wait around for things to happen to her.

Another few steps, another flash of gold in a dark window. She wondered distantly if she should try to guide what was coming.

Was there something coming?

Yes. She knew it as well as he did. Aki was stubborn, and he seemed to have made up his mind. He wasn't going to let this go now...Now that she had...

She had...

She had...

She lowered her head, stared at the sidewalk with empty eyes as he led her.

The things they had done...

What he had done to her...

What she had _allowed_ him to do...

She hadn't let the memories well up in her mind, but with the open-future directly ahead of her, she couldn't seem to suppress it anymore.

He had seen her, touched her in ways that no one ever had before.

And she had done the same. She had _wanted_ to. She must have, because she could remember reaching for him, she could remember wanting to touch him, taste him. Drag him into the desperate ways he was making her feel.

An echo of it seemed to go through her body with the memory. Just a thread, but enough to sting her cheeks with blood, to make it feel as if she were drawing her breaths in deeper.

She unconsciously lifted her hand and rested it on his side. She clenched her fingers in his jacket.

_Be honest,_ her inner-voice seemed to detach from the stirring feelings. _ You liked the way he touched you. You want him to do it again._

And there was an image in her mind of what it meant. A hazy picture of a girl in Aki's arms, of long gold hair fallen over bare shoulders as she held him close. As he touched her...

_No_...It was weak. She told herself to push the image away, but it only seemed to grow stronger. Now she could see the familiar lines of her own face, flushed with pleasure. The strength of his fingers on her hips, the needy way he pulled her down on him while he pushed his hips up again and again.

The way he whispered, soft words to her twined around urgent moans.

She was shaking. It was cold enough to snow again, but it wasn't the temperature on the street. She did. She really, really did. She _wanted _him.

She had said it before, but she hadn't quite believed it. Still didn't, to be honest. But she could _feel_ it. A trembling in her blood, an insistent ache in her stomach.

_I'm so messed up_, she thought miserably. _Aki shouldn't get me hot._

_And he knows_, came the grudging whisper. _He knows I feel this way..._

_And that's why he keeps trapping me._

_Because I keep letting him._

_Because the uncensored truth..._

She took firm hold of her mind and forced the thought into words. _Because the uncensored truth is that I want him, too. And that is the reason I stayed kneeling at his side that night. Why I kissed him..._

It was curiosity, yes. But it was curiosity -about him-.

_I had a dream...months ago...and..._

Hips between her thighs...struggling to separate. Struggling to understand. And...surrender...

_So long I've been wondering why he feels this way. Where it started. I should have been wondering that about myself. Did this desire follow his? Or was it in me all along?_

_Does it really matter? Where it began or how it started..._

_Does it really matter?_

She didn't know how to answer that question. She didn't know what to do now.

He was leading her up steps, she didn't notice. She didn't even notice that she was following blindly.

_What if I...just did it? What if I...slept with him? We've come so far already. Gone too far. Would it really change anything?_

Her mind had already gone there. Again and again. Didn't that mean that the sin was already committed? Even if only in the spirit?

She took a hard breath, her fingers tightening in his jacket. _Aya, what are you thinking? You can't do that!_

_Why_, her mind prompted.

A blink, and she vaguely noticed that they were at the apartment. That he was opening the door and leading her through.

_Because! Because_...

The door closed softly behind her. The click of the lock catching seemed loud.

Because it would change everything.

_How long do you think you'll be able to pretend that things haven't already changed? __**You can't go back.**_


	73. Bracing

Bracing

* * *

Hands, on either side of her face. He tilted her head up and made her meet his stare. She knew she looked slightly dazed, his eyes flicked between hers, searching, darkening. If they had actually even lightened from the shoppe. She wondered what thoughts had distracted him into holding his tongue on their way back, but she had a feeling she already knew. That they were the same ones in her mind.

She took a step back, coming up short against the door. It wasn't a sudden movement, or a surprise, though it should have been. It wasn't a surprise when he followed her steadily, maintaining his hold on her. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. Not exactly that, the sensation was hard to describe. Like, maybe she was pushing through water. But it wasn't difficult.

It was..._embracing_.

He kept his hands on her face, but bent his arms, pressing them in a line against her chest, stepping into her and pressing her against the door. His force was gentle, his hold steady as he held her eyes.

She didn't struggle because she didn't want to. Because it _was true_. She wanted him. She took a breath and felt her breasts push against the softer sides of his arms, felt her body stir with the aggressive half-embrace and indirect touch of intimacy.

He pressed tighter against her, and she felt his hips pushing hers back into the door. A firm line of heat and strength, and the sensation was like a hot knife through her gut. She knew her eyelashes did a strange fluttering thing, closed and opened, felt the tremble go through her lips, and heard it in a quiet breath. It seemed especially loud, and his hands tightened on either side of her face.

Her body liked that, too. It liked him holding her as he was, like a tightening trap that she wasn't trying to escape.

_Kiss me_, she thought. There was a sort of distance to the thought. Like it was separated from her.

At the same time, it seemed to ring in her body, echo in her hands as they shook. Her fingers were curled in his jacket, clutching at his sides as if to hold him in place. She hadn't even realized.

He didn't kiss her. She was going to cry, because she just _could not_ cross that distance on her own. She couldn't. She didn't know what it was, but something inside her told her-that was a concession that she was just not ready to make.

Or face.

"Aki..." she didn't really say it, just moved her lips, but it seemed to pull him in closer. He pushed his forehead gently against hers, angling her head back so her lips were clearly on offer, but he still did not kiss her.

He breathed against her, he grew harder against her, and he held her eyes, but he did not cross that last inch between their lips.

The trembling in her stomach was taking on a desperate edge, her fingers actually feeling like claws she wanted to dig into him. Not to hurt, but to latch onto, to somehow force him to move.

He tilted his mouth, licked a quick, wet line across her lips. "Kiss me," he whispered, and she pulled on his jacket a little. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Just like the tightening of her stomach. The rush of liquid heat at the huskiness of his voice. She didn't move, but she felt like she was shaking.

Another lick, this time it lingered, this time he pushed his hips against her slightly.

Her lips parted instinctively, but he drew back again, but just his mouth. She could feel him, firm and hot against her. He seemed to be radiating heat.

"Kiss me...Aya." And what he did to her name, it actually pulled a sound from her throat. If she could have thought, she would have been mortified at the soft, needy sound that filled the air around them.

His eyes fluttered closed, and she saw him almost give in. His hands tightened on her, his hips pushed a little, and he leaned forward.

But just as quickly he froze in place, took a sharp breath that rubbed his chest against her breasts.

Then he opened his eyes again and drew back.

"Kiss me...now."

She felt her hands instantly move to obey, felt them try to draw him close. It was a manipulative obedience, because she drew him closer, but did not kiss him. And again, she almost saw him complete the motion. But again he caught himself.

It was worse, with him closer. She hadn't been able to think before, but now her heart was pulsing hard in her chest. Not a 'thump', but a deep expansion and contraction. It seemed to create a direct line right down the centre of her body.

"Okay," he said, clearly a warning, and it was almost as bad, because he did not give in, nor back down. He rubbed his nose gently against hers, purposefully slowing his breath to a tease.

'Lick' was too quick a word to describe what he did with his tongue. He slid it slowly across her lips, teasing the soft line, the join, the fullness, the part. Then he drew back to savour her taste, only to return and do it again, until her lips were tingling wildly and desperately aching for pressure.

She didn't make a decision, at least, she didn't _think_ she did. She didn't move, didn't pull, but the next time his tongue came to play across her lips, hers licked across her bottom lip and...touched his.

Not a kiss in the conventional sense, but enough. He sank into her with a moan, his open mouth sliding into hers as his eyes fluttered closed. She made a sound, too. A soft sound of relief and pleasure that she knew he heard. His tongue caressed hers without hesitation, reaching deep as his lips rubbed harder and harder against hers.

After the teasing touches, the sharper pressure was just right, and she found her body reactively pushing up from the door, pushing closer to him, as if the kiss wasn't just with her lips, but with her whole body.

He let go of her face to slide his hands back through her hair, to place them on the door behind her and press harder against her.

A sharper breath as she shifted again in response and felt the hard zipper of his jeans rub against her. Her hands _were_ claws now, digging into cloth and flesh and pulling. She caught at her breath in snatches, but couldn't quite seem to get a full one. She was feeling hot, and achy, and light-headed, and alone these sensations may have been alarming, but together...

He broke off, pulled back, nearly panted against her lips as her eyes remained closed and she struggled to breathe.

"Kiss me," he gasped, and she pushed up on her toes, using her own hands to take possession of his face and pull his head back down to her. The sound he made against her lips when she kissed him was almost better than the kiss itself.

She dragged her fingers through his hair and pulled, forcing the kiss deeper as if trying to taste that sound.

His hands slid down the door and he followed down her body. She protested the loss of his mouth with a jerk of her fingers in his hair until he nudged her face aside and bit her ear without preamble.

She gasped, digging her shoulders back into the door as her hips pushed forward again. He clearly liked that, so he did it again, finding new places to nip and lick until she realized that she had wound a leg around his hip and pulled him tighter against her.

This was clearly what he had wanted, because he made a low growl of desire and triumph, latched his fingers onto the swell of her hips, and dominantly pushed up.

She threw her head back, nearly crying out at the sensory overload.

The cry came out on a twist of his name, and his body grew more aggressive, his hands tightening as he held her.

She was spinning in a whirlwind of sensation and desire. She arched her back instinctively to deepen their contact, pushing up on her toes and digging her heel into his calf hard.

When he fought with the zipper on her jacket, she helped him, tugging at the irritating cloth and tangling her fingers with his. When he pulled her shirt down one side, stretching the collar over her shoulder and ruining it rather than taking the time to remove it, she didn't care. She wrapped one hand in his hair and pulled clumsily at the buttons with the other.

Nothing seemed as important as being close to him...

_I want to always be close to him._..

She didn't consciously form the thought, so that must mean that it was absolutely true. It spurred her on, pushed conscious thought further away, and sent pulsing desire sharper through her blood.

Lips on her collarbone, her shirt had pulled down one side, revealing her shoulder and a lace-covered breast. He curved his spine to slide lower, and the position shifted. His hips pushed deeper between her legs, the rough denim and harder zipper now pressed intimately against her. And when he closed his mouth over her breast, at the same time he rolled his hips, a strong, deep roll that rubbed that hard, throbbing part of him right over the clammy heat of her panties.

Her body shuddered as her nails sank into his hair, his back, as she took a gasping breath and locked her leg tighter around him.

'Close' took on a whole new meaning. 'Close' was everything. 'Close' was _inside_ of her. For a moment, nothing less would ever be enough. Her mind was like petals that had been scattered by a hurricane. She could see them, they were seperate and had their distinct details, but reaching out she could not grasp them, could not hold onto them. They flitted across her mind, each true and real, but separated from her by some twist of consciousness.

'More, please' and 'never felt...' and 'only you...'

And the sweet, loving throb of 'Aki...'

_Aki_...

He continued that primal dance, but something was moving in her mind. Stirring like a sleeping snake. It stretched out and out, coiling around her heart. It slowly began to tighten.

That same inner-voice that had pushed and prodded at her, did so again.

_Aki_...

_Brother_...

That was all. No arguments or explanations, no leaning either way. Just a statement of fact, a test to her resolve. Was this really her decision?

Except...she hadn't made any decision. Not really. He had kissed her-

Or had she kissed him? She _couldn't think_.

There had been a kiss...

Was it just a kiss? It seemed to have grown larger in her mind...

_You choose this...be very sure. You do this...there won't be any going back._

_I'm not ready._

The thought was hers, it actually had the taste of her voice, and it rang with the true essence of her mind.

_I'm not ready to do this. I'm not ready to go down this path._

That was a decision in its own, but convincing her body that she wasn't ready seemed nearly an impossible task. It countered her with desire and pleasure, with a deep throbbing in her centre and wet heat soaking through his jeans. Her fingers shook as they tightened on his shoulders. As they started to push weakly.

The way he was moving against her-she didn't really want it to stop?

An open-ended question.

_No_, she gasped back honestly. _But we have to! We have-_

Through the thin cloth of her bra he took her nipple between his teeth and pulled, swirling his tongue wetly around it.

_Oh please! Oh please, I have to-!_ She wanted him to sprawl her out on the bed and _force_ her, because she _wanted_ this, but her mind was finally struggling up out of the desire. It was like some dark, warm water, and she was at the bank trying to drag herself out.

At the same time, the air seemed so hard to breathe, and it was so cold...so...

"Mmm, Aki, no..." It was a soft moan, her voice did not match her words. Nor did the weak pushing of her hands really match the tightening of her leg around his hip. She could forgive him for not stopping.

She wasn't stopping...

He drew back and warm breath blew across the wet front of her bra, the sensation was so sharp that it was almost painful. She struggled a moment in his hold, but not to escape.

She was so _close_ to that feeling, that new addictive feeling that never seemed to be enough. Just a few more minutes, just a few more...

_And then a few more after that, right? _her mind mocked her softly, with nothing but the truth. _Once you've gone too far, the next step is always easier, isn't it?_

She whimpered, and it wasn't quite a sound of pleasure anymore. It twisted in her throat with the thickness of tears.

_What am I doing?_

He was pulling down the cup of her bra, and now his wet, hot mouth was on her flesh. He closed his lips over her breast and sucked deeply, teasing the tip by rapidly flicking his tongue over it at the same time.

_Oh_!

Pleasure was like a sharp flash through her body, a deep contraction through her centre that pushed her hips up away from the door and deeper against the sheathed hardness of his body.

She was going to cry...She wanted this! She wanted to feel this! But she couldn't! She just couldn't!

Now he let her breast go to lap at it steadily, his tongue a wet, firm line dragging the rough texture of his tastebuds over the sensitive nerves of her nipple. The kneading of his hands on her, the tiny sounds of pleasure he made in his throat, it was all chipping steadily away at her resolve. The longer they touched, the more she wanted to touch. The less she cared about consequences.

But she had to care..._she had to._

It almost hurt to steady her hands, to force strength in them to push him away. Saliva laced over her breast, trickled from the stiff nipple and tightened the skin even further as it cooled. It actually ached like a pain, and her lust whispered at her, telling her that the only thing that could stop it would be to be pulled taut between his teeth again.

She closed her eyes, as if in pain, and pushed harder. The growing space between their upper bodies only seemed to push their hips into deeper contact. To feel him pressed so deep and hard against her nearly scrambled her brain, but she held stubbornly to that last thread of self-preservation. She was not ready for this.

She fiercely ignored the insinuation of that statement. The implication that time and effort would change such an idea within her. And she ignored the part of her that reached out to that desperately, as if it were some sort of hope to hold onto.

She wanted to do this, but not really, right? Not when she was in her right mind, right?

She loved him, and was clearly caught in the web of a strong lust...but it wasn't anymore than that.

Right?

His eyes slowly fluttered open, and she wondered if hers looked as wild as she felt. She couldn't tell from his reaction because he looked half-asleep. There was a confused daze to his eyes. The wideness of his pupils almost made him look blind, and the sweep of his lashes was strangely beautiful.

He was beautiful in his dishevelment. His lips half-parted and swollen red, his breath a soft pant as his gold hair was made wild by the pull and tangle of her fingers.

The look was a strange mix of lazy lust and fierce predator. Like a lion on the prowl, but comfortable in his own territory, confident that his strength could carry him through.

It was a look she didn't think she had ever seen on him before, but her body instantly tightened with reaction, going hot and wet, and shifting her hips in a move that could only be described as instinctive.

The shrinking voice of her conscience told her that these feelings, this behaviour, was unnatural.

What, then, did it mean that so many of her reactions seemed to be led by instinct? She definitely wouldn't choose the dull, achy throb in her centre that felt as if it might slowly drive her insane. Or that she felt empty, and wanted desperately only to fill herself with him. Again and again.

She groaned at that thought, not seeming to be able to help herself as her fingers dug into his shoulders. She closed her eyes and struggled hard to try and drag her mind to heel. It was being just as stubborn as her body, both elements feeding on each other in a circle and perpetuating this sharp desire that should not be.

Could not be...

No part of her seemed to be listening...

Neither was he...

He leaned forward as if pulled by that groan from her, his lashes falling down to shadow his eyes further into darkness. They weren't quite closed, looked half-drugged as he curled his hands around the small of her back and gently closed his lips over hers.

Her hands shook in hesitation, heels pushing at him while her nails held on. He splayed his hands possessively over the small of her back, then slowly dragged them down. She gasped against his lips, lifting up on her toes as he guided her hips to roll against his in firmer strokes.

She felt tears spill from her eyes, it was that hard to make herself consider stopping. She didn't _consider_ it, she just knew she had to. If she let this dance carry through to completion here and now, that would be it. Maybe not that exact moment, or the next moment, but some time soon, _some time tonight_, he would have her spread out on that bed and the hot, insistent pushing of his hips would become inescapably real.

She shuddered at the thought, at the mental image, and almost came undone right then.

But at the same time a fissure of fear traced lightning bolts over the pleasure, and the thick, burning honey in her lower stomach suddenly hardened and grew heavy.

"Mmm!" She tried to pull her mouth back, but he followed. It wasn't like he consciously wouldn't let her go, he just moved when she did and changed the angle of the kiss.

"Ak-ki! Mm-no..." Snatches of breath between kisses, she knew she had managed to say that out loud, but it was so tangled by lust and confusion that she wasn't sure that she actually formed words, that he could understand her.

Was he even in a head-space where he could hear her?

He seemed to be balancing on a sharper edge of control than she was, or maybe he wasn't balancing at all and had already fallen. It was unsettling, to see her forever-serious brother so overcome by emotion.

Unsettling...and _compelling_.

Transformed by lust...he seemed a thing of beauty. Like this intensity of emotion was what he hid behind that calm mask, and she was finally_, finally_ being allowed to touch the _real him._

Again, she almost slipped under. It was almost worth it, to give in, to bind herself so closely to him in sin, just to keep holding on to the feeling that she was touching his soul.

His hands slipped under her skirt, and she jolted awake from the haze of sweetness she had been drifting into, hot fingers kneading her thighs, slowly slipping up to the elastic of her panties, and some sort of switch flipped inside her. Instant panic welled up, and she suddenly began to struggle desperately.

"Aki, no!"

He grappled with her for a moment, lifting her up against the door, pushing her harder back against the wood...


	74. Impression

Impression

* * *

He seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing and jerked still.

There was a strange tableau for a moment. The dim room was filled with her panting breaths, and his abrupt silence.

The air left him in a hard exhale. His hands had been closed on her arms in restraint when he had frozen, his hips not just between hers, but curved and pushed up so hard that she was nearly straddling him in a standing position.

Though neither was hovering over the other, it was clearly a dominant position on his part, and for just a moment he had moved to restrain her when she had started to struggle.

And now they were frozen as if he had stuck in place and now was desperately trying to shift to a lower gear.

She didn't calm, he was pulling back, trying to regain his senses enough to understand what was going on. But physically he was still pressed so tightly against her, and she could feel him, hard and practically shaking. She couldn't tell if he was throbbing or if it was actually her own pulse squeezing so hard through her lower stomach.

Maybe it was both. All she knew was that something about this moment was sinking into the physical memory of her body. That there had been so many singular moments and new sensations, but this one would be what she would keep returning to.

The stillness, the sound of breath, the heat and strength of his body, of his will fighting for control. And the feel of him rubbed so intimately raw where she was most vulnerable.

_I will dream of this_, came the fleeting thought. It came and went, and she didn't try to hold onto it. She was waiting for this moment to break.

He drew back slowly, not to be a tease, but she still slid down the length of his body all the same, causing them both to shudder as she rubbed against him in one last accidental caress.

With a strange slowness he uncurled his hands from her arms, hesitated, then slid shakily out from under the curl of her leg. She felt cold instantly and her arms snapped up to wrap around herself.

Only then did she realize that her shirt was falling down her right shoulder and her breast was spilling free of its cup. With shaky fingers she quickly righted herself. He didn't look away, and it seemed silly to demand that he do such a thing. She didn't protest, just pulled her shirt closed with one hand and waited. The wet cloth of her bra seemed especially cold and abrasive.

He shook his shoulders as if trying to shake free of something. Then he took a deep breath and squared them.

Some distant part of her mourned the light of familiar seriousness that was starting to retake his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, and she didn't understand. She knew he wasn't sorry for trying to seduce her again...

Another breath, and a closing and opening of his eyes. "I am going to stop every time that you tell me to," he said, and she finally understood. He thought he had startled her, that he had _scared_ her, with his momentary loss of control.

Maybe he had scared himself.

_Oh Aki._..

She wanted to reach out to him, but it was too soon.

He shook his head, as if he could hear the softening of her thoughts, and he didn't think he deserved it himself. "But please understand that it's not a switch I can flip at will..."

And what he meant was clearly emphasized while he stood there and didn't even attempt to hide his condition from her. His hands were in self-restraining fists, but they remained at his sides while he stood pressed tight and firm against his jeans. He clearly wasn't embarassed, and strangely enough, she wasn't either.

Though she found herself biting her lower lip as her eyes seemed to trace the curved outline of him without her permission. She quickly snapped her eyes back up to his, and he gave her a weaker smile than his usual one. It spoke of tiredness and something else that she would not name.

"Don't worry," he said, reading the expression on her face though she had no idea what it was saying to him, "it will pass."

For some reason, she doubted it. Oh, not the physical, but...everything else. She kept telling herself that she hoped this was passing, but when she was honest...it only seemed to be growing stronger.

We're feeding it. Not just him, but me, too.

She didn't know how to stop. Desire could be distracting in the best of situations, and this definitely was not 'ideal'. It seemed cruel to leave him like that. A strange idea shot through her head, but she quickly shook it away, before examinig it. She wasn't thinking straight. She wanted to soothe him somehow, but what could she do? Other than what she could NOT consider.

"You must hate me," she whispered, and his head swung in her direction as if startled. "The way I keep blowing so hot and cold..."

_Maybe...maybe this indecision is worse than making the wrong decision?_ She pushed that idea quickly away, it implied that she was actually considering both sides. Hadn't she already decided?

She kept telling herself she had, but then she kept hesitating...

There was that word again...She dropped her head to stare with a sort of dull trepidition at the floor.

Hands settled on her cheeks, gently holding her face between them as if it were something infinitely precious. He lifted her face to make her meet his eyes.

It was too soon, the hold too closely mirrored the one he had just used to trap her. The possibility was far, far too close to the surface still. Her eyelashes swept down in instinctive preparednss for a kiss. There was no conscious thought to it. She would have been afraid, had there been. As it was, it took her a second to realize she had tilted her head to offer her lips.

And once she realized, her eyes snapped open wide. She took stock of her position and realized she was leaning towards him, with both her hands curled gently around his wrists. She wasn't pushing or pulling, her fingers seemed only to be embracing him.

The look on his face had grown so sweet and tender that it nearly hurt to see it. It produced a dull ache in her chest, that seemed to sting in her eyes.

_We move and reach like lovers_, she realized. _Even without the passion...there is intimacy to our touches now..._

"Aya..." His thumbs smoothed over her cheekbones, drawing invisible lines that tingled in her skin. She leaned even closer. She didn't decide it, her body seemed to have a mind of its own.

"You know I could never hate you. I love you."

That last held something young in it, something that carried the sweet taste of innocence. She wouldn't have thought so-being what they were.

"And I understand about the confusion. I am trying so hard not to push you. At least more than you need. I want you so much-sometimes it takes my mind a few moments to catch up with my body. Please know that I will never hurt you. Ever. I can't. You are my most precious person..."

She was holding her breath, and she felt as if she were only solid where he touched her, the rest of her was swaying free without an anchor, light and airy, and not quite real.

_The things he says..._

She didn't know how she wanted to finish that thought. Negative or positive, or something made of both. She couldn't say which was which, or which was true.

He was waiting earnestly for an answer.

"You are never going to hurt me. I know that." And she did, there was no doubt in her mind. But he seemed to need to hear it repeated back to him, as if he needed her to say it before he could believe it himself. But she did not doubt him. Not in his love, or determination, nor in the depth of his caring.

No. She doubted herself.

_I'm faltering._

_Whatever I'm doing, I'm faltering_.

But he made it so easy, with his words, and emotions, and the overwhelming passion of his kisses. In the needy possessiveness of his hands, and the exquisite heat of his body against hers.

She swayed again for a moment, her fingers tightening around his wrists as the heat of her skin seemed to spike in temperature. She knew her lips parted, she knew something shifted in her eyes, because his arms slowly drew in slightly. An unconscious gesture that brought him closer to her. His eyes darkened rapidly, and she could feel it happening again. Feel herself being wrapped in silk and slowly drawn back into that sweet trap.

_I can't do this again_, came the fleeting thought. She knew if he pulled her to that edge again, this time she'd take his hand and jump.

Again, she flashed on that image that seemed to be looped in the back of her mind. Of her thighs squeezing his hips while his body rolled deep and hard into hers. There was golden flesh and dark, burning eyes, and greedy hands grasping and pulling.

And a whisper in her blood saying 'you can have this'.

'You can have it right now.'

_I...should not be tempted.._.

And she realized that her skin was practically burning under his hands, and she was staring at that image with fascination, drawing herself mentally closer to it, rather than pushing it away.

With slow movements, movements seeming to grow softer with pain, she tightened her hands on his, then pulled down. She felt as if a line snapped, and she would sway dangerously on her feet, but she finished the move by letting go of his hands and stepping back.

He instantly half-reached to pull her back, then seemed to catch himself and drop his hands.

They stared at each other in silence. Steps separated them now, but she knew it was so much more than that.

And yet...

And yet, it felt as if all she had to do was reach, and he would be there. That all he needed from her was that one little concession, and then he would forcefully bind them together for eternity.

_But aren't we already?_

_Haven't we always been...?_

He took a breath, and seemed to not know exactly what to do with his hands. His normal course of action would be to bury them deep in his pockets. But that was clearly out of the question with the obviously _rampant_ state he was in.

Though...there was something attractive in the mental image of him drawing his jeans tight across his thighs, his arms acting as a focus.

Or maybe a frame...

Finally he settled on hugging his elbows, a strangely vulnerable gesture that made her want to draw his head down to her breast and run her fingers through his hair.

But life wasn't static, and sooner or later that action would take that inevitable step further, she had already learned.

She quickly forced the image to the back of her mind before it could show her exactly where that step would take them.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, but it was just a consideration now. A politeness meant to be spoken when no other words came. Or he couldn't say what he wanted to say.

The air was tense now with those unspoken things. She knew half of them were only in her head, but some of them had to be true.

Some were enough.

"Me too," she whispered, but her words held meaning where his did not. Even though she wasn't quite sure that that meaning was appropriate. And she definitely would not explain if he asked.

She wouldn't even think about it.

He smiled weakly, and looked so...strange standing there all alone. Like a stranger who was only wearing a mask of her brother. And an ill-fitting one at that.

To be fair, she didn't feel quite like herself either.

Maybe the smarter thing would be to awknowledge that the situation was so far outside the circle of norm. Who wouldn't feel a little displaced, or disconnected?

"I know."

And now there was nothing left to say. Nothing safe, anyway. It was a silent agreement that there was too much emotion simmering here for either of them to try to speak further.

And his state...wasn't _abating_.

That made eloquent thought difficult, she guessed. And dangerous. And maybe a short separation was needed.

They seemed to reach the idea at the same time, because he dropped his arms and sighed. "I am going to take a shower," he said by way of explanation. The tightening of fists told her exactly what that meant. But she couldn't begrudge him. Not when half of her was still shaking with unfullfilled lust herself.

When she considered that he was the source of that lust, and what that meant, she felt a little crazy. So she didn't consider it, and she was able to pretend for moments at a time that she could do this. That she could hold him at arm's length while still pulling him through these unacceptable feelings to the other side.

She didn't consider what was on the other side, either.

He hesitated as if awaiting her permission to leave, and she frowned slightly. Or maybe he was hesitating in the hopes that she would stop him. She frowned harder.

She wanted to say he was being silly, but she recognized the inner prodding that urged her, not to invite him to stay, but to take a step further and follow him into the bathroom.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was waiting around to see if she would finally give in to temptation.

She would _not_ be tempted.

When she made no move, to speak or stop, or heaven forbid, follow, he cast her that same weak smile and walked stiffly to the bathroom.

She watched the door close slowly, but did not relax.


	75. Figment

Figment

* * *

This was about too much.

He stood before the bathroom mirror, hands in fists in his hair, and tried to relax.

He had never thought of himself as a particularly suseptable to lust, but he was shaking so badly that he could actually see it like a fine line along his shoulders. His blood was practically burning with the desire to be inside her. Not even to move or thrust, but just to feel her tight heat sheathing him in pleasure. To be that close to her, that..._connected_.

He groaned at that, clenching his fingers and pulling his hair, but the pain didn't help.

Nothing helped.

There was a little white showing around his eyes, telling him they were open a little too wide. And his breath was a little sharper than normal, but he hadn't really noticed that either.

It was hard to pay attention to anything besides the dull throb and ache of his body. The zipper pressing into him was sharp, and the pressure was uncomfortable every time he shifted, or even breathed deep. But he welcomed it, oddly enough. He had the feeling that it was the only thing keeping him that last step back from the edge.

Though part of him couldn't see how he could possibly be blamed. She had been teasing and taunting him all afternoon, coming at him with bold words and erotic truths, then backing down with sweet innocence. How was he expected to keep up with such an act? Let alone anticipate her next move and plan accordingly?

And the intimate play that began almost as soon as they were behind a closed door...

_She can pretend all she wants..._he thought, with a sort of distraction to it. _She can keep pushing me away..._

_But she is still the one that keeps pulling me close_...

Very...very close-

And his eyes closed as that memory flashed, not through his mind, but through his body, ripping his hands out of his hair to clutch at the sink edge. His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, as they pushed forward in a move he wished he didn't understand. The muscles of his thighs and buttocks were so tight, angling his pelvis forward.

His body was telling him 'this'. 'This is what we are suppose to be doing.'

Too bad every part of him agreed. It made control a little harder to hold on to.

The sounds she made didn't help either. Or the grip of her hands. The heat of her thighs burning through his jeans...

_Aki_, he snapped sharply, trying to use his mental voice to reign in his hormones. It wasn't working.

Nothing worked.

_Fine_, he thought, with a vicious sort of surrender. He slammed his hands down on the fastening of his jeans and ripped the button out of the hole, then he jerked the zipper down with a familiar flick. There wasn't any relief in the sudden freedom. The cold air touched him with stinging kisses, every touch was almost too much. _And definitely not enough._

His open jeans slipped down, catching on the sharpness of his hip bones, but stretching tight across his thighs. The shirt was getting in his way, so he quickly ripped it off and let it fall where it may.

Then he laid his right hand flat on the counter, forced his eyes back up to his own, and wrapped his hand around his erection without hesitation.

The rigid flesh jerked in his hold, and so did his hips. A low-groan squeezed from his throat, and he let it. He didn't try to swallow it or stifle at all.

_I don't care if she hears me...Let her hear me_...

And he tightened his fingers and pulled them to the very end, stretching flesh over veins and muscle. His eyes took on a tortured light, his lips parting on a sharp sound of need and pleasure.

It felt good...but it still wasn't enough.

He took a familiar rhythm with his hand, pushing his hips sharply to meet it. He held his own eyes for as long as he could, until he widened his stance and leaned on his right arm, the muscles tensing to hold him.

Then his eyes fell closed and she was exactly where he knew she would be, waiting eagerly in his mind.

Another soft cry as his body recalled the feel of her in his arms, as he pushed her half-way up the door and her breast was in his mouth.

The flesh was a strange firm softness, light and weighty at the same time, and a little like the Spiced Vanilla lotion she used. He didn't know why her breasts fascinated him-when he sucked on them he felt each pull like a line of ice right down the centre of his body. And when he sank his teeth into her, the ache became a deep throb.

There were so many things he wanted to do to those breasts. To see the ways he could shift those sensations, and make them spread.

And hearing her make that low, gasping sound in her throat was definitely of interest to him, too.

Both her legs were around his waist, and his jeans were undone. She still wore her skirt, but that appealed to him. To feel his body pressed so tight and hard against her. To feel himself rub over her again and again, but not actually see it...

She slid her arm around his neck, curled her body around him and clung, her hips shifting in a way he knew intimately.

Her panties were gone, and he caught her squirming hips, lifted her up. Her eyes flashed open, dark with love and desperate desire, and she arched her spine, helping him find the angle they needed.

Then he was pushing into her, slow and achy. And her breath was coming faster as her body grew wet and tight around him.

It took so long. Longer than he could have born had it been reality. But he wanted to prolong this moment of first penetration, see and feel it from different angles, focus on the image until he could somehow feel it as if it were really happening.

And when they fit, as snug as matching puzzle pieces, he froze the picture in his mind, slowing down the movement of his hand as he memorized the details. His actions had been harsh and desperate, but now there was a smooth rhythm to it, now his hand was wet with sticky fluid, and the sense of weak pleasure was rocking through him, sharpening occasionally when he squeezed his imagination down so hard that he managed to squeeze a drop of belief out of his body.

He couldn't hold the image clear all at once, but he could focus on details and make them seem almost real.

He seemed especially caught by the image of himself completely swallowed up by her, pressed tight and deep, and strangely enough like they were one being. When he drew back, then slowly pushed back in with one deep stroke, it was still that moment when he was completely sheathed within her that jolted sharp heat through him.

Again, the door didn't afford such a view, so she was now sprawled beneath him on the bed, her legs spread wide as he held himself over her on one arm, and drew back with the other. The action twisted his hips slightly, and he watched her shudder, felt the shudder where he couldn't see it, deep in her centre.

With a sort of predatorial slowness he drew back, watched the hard, throbbing piece of him steadily pull out, until only the head remained inside her.

She fluttered around him, her body tightening and sucking at him. He liked the feel of it so he stayed where he was a long moment, nearly slipping free of her and feeling himself leaking out to mix with her body's own natural wetness.

The shift of her hips was insistent, the push of her heels. He set his hand on her thigh and held her in place. Pushed a little to open her wider. Slowly he pushed back in, watched his flesh disappearing into hers with a shivery pleasure edged with fascination.

As deep as he could go, he still pushed further, feeling her squeeze the very base of his body, seeing them fit together seamlessly, but he wanted to be deeper. His buttocks clenched, dimpled as his hips actually lifted hers, and he made little thrusting motions, not pulling out, but actually shifting inside her.

But he wanted, _needed_ to see it again, so he pulled his hips back again, then thrust deep. Deep and slow, angling his hips up at the end of the stroke to again push that last space deeper into her.

She made a sound that was more surprise than pleasure, but there was definite pleasure there. She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, but he caught them quickly, thoughtlessly. He pushed them over her head and held them down with one hand. Her wrists crossed under his fingers, his hold was gentle but inescapable.

And it wasn't conscious on his part. He just wanted her to feel what he was feeling. To savour the feel of him inside of her, to remember every detail.

Every other touch would just distract them.

The backward push of her arms thrust her breasts up at him, and he found his eyes sliding away from hers to stare at them.

Another long, deep thrust, and he watched them bounce with a feeling that could only be described as deep hunger.

It felt good, so he did it again. And again. A slow, building pressure started at the base of his spine, his arms were shaking, the one holding him up, and the one holding her down. But he wasn't going to compromise. He couldn't look away, and he wasn't going to let go of her . The restraint of her hands was what had her breasts bouncing so enticingly. He licked his lips, and then without further thought, leaned forward and licked her breast, mouthing it wetly as her hard nipple bumped over his lips, his nose. It took a few tries, but he finally caught it, pulled on it gently with his teeth.

Her moan became a cry, and she struggled in his hold. But he tightened his hand and thrust harder, letting her breast pull free of his mouth before turning his attention to the other one.

Then he didn't need to see himself inside her. He needed to see _her_, feeling him inside her.

He grasped her wrists in both his hands and beared down. Pushed up on his knees until his position mocked a shallow curve, with their lower bodies pressed tight together, and him hovering over her.

It felt amazing, to feel his hips so snugly between her thighs, to feel her body completely surround him, clenching and sucking at his rigid flesh as he moved. He rocked into her again, and again, lifting her hips up with each deep thrust.

She didn't struggle in his hold, but lay gasping and panting, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she tossed her head without discernable pattern. She couldn't move her hands, so she moved what she could. She couldn't move her hips with his pinning hers, so she pushed at the bed with her heels.

He bore down on her hands a little harder. He wanted to see her eyes, so she opened them. Stared up at him with eyes that looked almost blind with pleasure. The blue swam to deep eddies of almost purple, the colour almost shrunken to a mere ring.

The half-wild look in her eyes dragged him forward, dragged something equally wild out of him. He licked her mouth, her face, her tongue, in kisses that weren't quite human. His thrusts grew harder, faster, with each moment that that darker instinct grew in him.

There was a definite sound of flesh slapping on flesh now, and he liked it, so he made it louder. Her cries grew in sharpness to his escalating movements, and he liked that, too. Even the old, worn bed began to squeak rhythmically, and spurred him on. Spurred him to make the silent pauses between shorter.

Sweat pooled at the base of his spine, made his fingers slick around her wrists. It tickled the end of his nose, but he didn't notice. He rose up over her again, groaning when it pushed him harder inside her. Exhaustion was creeping into his legs, but that was secondary, that was something he couldn't understand.

He pulled her arms tighter over her head and curved her spine more, shifting the angle of his penetrations only a touch, but making a nearly desperate cry spill from her mouth. And then she was struggling, forcefully shoving her hips against him to take him in, but twisting her arms in his hold and clawing at his hands. She lunged her head up off the bed and closed her mouth over his, thrusting her tongue deep in his mouth in a strange echo of what he was doing to her body. But even while she tore him through that feverish kiss, she continued to spill those desperate cries, continued to struggle to get free.

He didn't. He _couldn't_. His hands tightened on her wrists, and he pushed the kiss back on her with just as much fierceness, finding it was easier to mimmick with his tongue the movement of his hips, rather than focus on sensuality or finesse.

With the pressure of his mouth he forced her back down to the pillow, then he let go of her lips, but did not stop the kiss. His tongue swirled around hers, tasting and stroking and drawing hers out of her mouth to play with his.

There was moisture gathered on her eyelashes, but he couldn't quite call it tears. It seemed a reaction that she wasn't even aware of.

He had to stop the kiss. He had to draw back, because he had to focus on the feel of his flesh sliding inside hers, had to imprint the feel of her so hot and tight and wet, and grasped so close around him that she seemed to cling to him whenever he withdrew.

_More_, he thought, and his hips drove forward faster. There were no pauses between now, just a sweet cacophony of sounds that clawed through his stomach. His breath was harder than a pant, not words, he couldn't think for that, but not quite moans either. At least, not consistently. The squeak of the bed had a sharp rythym to it, a constant noise that rose and fell, rather than stopped and started.

She was drawing breath so fast, that her moans continued to rise into those sharp cries, that some times she couldn't even catch her breath enough to make them.

He knew he wasn't being gentle now, there was too much desperation here for gentleness, and though he restrained her hands, she continued to arch her hips up to his with clear abandon.

He loved her gentle and sweet, and he loved her wild. After he filled her up with his seed, he wanted to roll her over onto her stomach and sprawl across her back, slowly part her thighs and gently slide into her. He wanted to see if the new angle changed the way it felt, and if he could make her come with shallow pushes while he licked the back of her neck.

How strange, to have a fantasy within a fantasy, he didn't quite feel real for a moment, as his consciousness hovered between pleasure, fantasy, and the physical boundaries of his real body. But he could feel that familiar tightening in his stomach, his back, and he almost didn't want it. He wanted the image to last longer, to draw the pleasure out, but it was too late to slow down. He was too close to the edge to stop going now.

He tried to focus on the part of the fantasy that had hit him the sharpest with pleasure, but his mind began to flash on details too quick for him to hold on to. A tangle of her hair around his fingers, the hot silk of her thighs, the edge of her teeth as he drew his tongue back over them. A gasp, a sharp jerk of her head that bowed her neck and bared her throat.

And then the memory, sweet memory of him licking her lips, and her tongue, hesitant and tentative, flicking out to lick across his. Of him, asking for a kiss, and of her, rising instantly up on her toes to oblige him.

He gasped aloud as his hips shoved forward hard, as his fingers convulsed around his length, and thick, hot liquid splattered across his hand, and the sink, and the mirror.

His braced arm shuddered, then bent, bowing him forward in a weak slump. His whole body shook as he squeezed out a few more drops, and the pleasure almost shifted into pain. His spine seemed to turn to liquid, and he wasn't sure what kept him on his feet, because it definitely wasn't strength.

He braced his other hand on the countertop, spaced between the sink, and panted. Something told him he might not have been exactly quiet in his orgasm, but he didn't really care. It wasn't as if she didn't already know what he was doing, and he wasn't ashamed. Strangely enough, he really wasn't.

He managed to lift his head, and through the fall of his bangs, he caught his eyes. Or tried, he had to really work on getting them to focus. They were nearly all-pupil, and dazed, and oddly there seemed to be a fissure of pain in them.

His lips were swollen, too. And he wondered if he had bit them. Or maybe these were bruises left behind from her kisses.

Too soon, but a dull spark of pleasure still looped around his spine. He could do little more than twitch in reaction, and take a harder breath that wasn't much more different than its predecessors. Then his eyes focused beyond him and he noticed the mess he had made of the sink, and mirror...and himself.

Not quite steady, he grasped the end of the nearest towel and drug it weakly over the rack. His hands shook as he began to clean up.


	76. Circuitous

76. Circuitous

She stood nearly in the centre of the room, and felt as if she tried to take one step, she might try to go in ten different directions at the same time.

The situation that was difficult before, was impossible now. If she thought about it like a fire, then, rather than suffocating it as she had planned, she had instead been tossing wood and oxygen at it.

There was a steady burning in her gut, and he was definitely NOT going to back down now.

Heat clenched like a clawed fist inside her.

Tears stung her eyes. How could that thought, that realization, possibly set her heart to beating faster? And not with dread?

_It's a little like anticipation, _her inner-voice commented pleasantly.

_No_, she returned firmly. But the honest truth was...that it _was_. There was still that part of her that wanted him to come back out of the bathroom, shove her down on the bed, and take the decision right out of her hands.

She was horrified at her own thinking. She didn't really want that, did she?

The soft, insistent throb of her body was an answer all its own. She refused to put it into words. There was a certain amount of violence in that desire. It scared her.

_Oh please_, her inner-voice sighed in exasperation, _please tell me you can see what's really going on here? It's not about 'violence'. It's about 'desire', and your current struggle with your conscience. You want him. You tell yourself you don't. You won't allow yourself to be with him-at the moment you cannot overcome your 'conscience'. So your mind, the part not bound up in what others have told you is wrong and right, is translating what it wants into a sort of fantasy. Him, over-powering you, taking you despite your 'protests'-it's all very symbolic._

_Is that really all it is, _she wondered. _Me wanting him to take the blame off my shoulders..._

That was worse than the desire. That was...a coward's way out.

_Well, maybe not 'all'_, her inner-voice returned slyly. _There is a certain merit to the image itself. Passion is compelling. You like the thought of him being out of control with desire for you._

It makes you feel powerful.

And there is the point that it's Aki. You've always liked to push at him until he loses his temper...

_You can't be serious_, she muttered. _That's not the same..._

Maybe not, but it comes from the same place.

Without warning, it shoved that same image at her. Of him, holding her down, of him, doing whatever he wanted with her. She jarred, her hands clasping her stomach and pushing down hard.

_Now tell me you don't want it_, it returned, all pleasantness gone to be replaced with a vicious sort of calm.

Her stomach was twisting with a mix of lust and shock. It felt exactly like someone had just kicked her hard.

_What more do you want from me,_ she mentally gasped. _I've already admitted that I want him!_

But I don't want to want him...

Why wouldn't her body listen to her mind?

Maybe because her mind wasn't being consistent in what it was saying.

_None of that is an answer_, her mind persisted in the same stubbornness that was usually a virtue for her.

Every virtue has a corresponding vice.

_I said I wanted him!_

Was it healthy to argue so much with herself?

Yes or no? It's really not that hard. You're not even saying it out-loud...

_I. Want. Him_.

Like that?

_Yes. All right, yes. Right now. Just like that._

Why?

_Why? What do you mean 'why'?_

That question spun her-did it even have an answer? How could she possibly answer that?

_We've already determined that it's only half-a-symbol. A way to alleviate your guilt and still have what you want. But what about the other half?_

She forced her hands from her stomach and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Hard enough to bounce a little. _Why don't you tell me, since you clearly already know?_

_I know only what you know. I, however, am not afraid to put hard truths into words. Besides, you gain nothing from hearing me spell it out to you. You have to say it yourself before you'll believe it._

What are you getting at-I don't understand. You've already got me to admit that I'm attracted to him...

_I am trying to get you to stop beating yourself up._

You are the one badgering me!

_Exactly_.

And she blinked, it taking a second for the realization to catch up with her. And then she wanted to sigh.

A circular argument with herself, about arguing.

Only her.

Aki would find this absolutely hilarious. Maybe I'll tell him one day.

_I'm not arguing,_ she finally thought, calming herself down. _I want him. I want that fantasy. Exactly for the reasons you expressed. To pass the guilt off to someone else, and because..._

She expanded her lungs with a deep breath, they burned like she had been running ten miles.

_Because...it would feel so good. __**He **__would make it so good._

She lifted her right hand to her mouth, then slowly dragged her fingers down over her lips. She wasn't sure why, only that there was something instinctively sensuous about the gesture.

It made her lips tingle.

_Oh god, would it be good, _and she tilted her head back only slightly, her eyes closed. Her hand slid to her throat, lingered with soft touches on her neckline. Her fingertips slipped under just the very edge of cloth and hesitated. Goosebumps broke out on her skin.

She didn't consciously decide it, the image had never quite left. She only reached out with shaky hands and slowly drew it close to her.


	77. Token

77. Token

Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he followed her down, his jeans undone and their slight tussle pulling them further down his hips.

She pushed weakly at his shoulders, but of course she couldn't move him. She wasn't really trying. She turned her head aside and denied him the kiss he was reaching for. But he didn't mind, he tilted his head and drug his tongue over her exposed throat, a wet line that made her struggle harder, made her arch her back and push her hips against his.

It was an accident, of course it was. He was spilled through the open fastening of his jeans, and the hot, hard weight of him pressed against her thigh. Because, of course, her skirt had ridden up when he forced her onto the bed, and now there was nothing protecting her flesh from his.

"Aki, no," she gasped, her voice breathless and weak with distraction. Her nails dug into his shoulders a moment before she remembered she was suppose to be pushing him. Suppose to be _resisting_.

He nipped at her throat with blunt teeth, and she forgot all again, giving up her _token _resistance as her voice grew stronger, but only with pleasure. "Oh, no, stop," she whispered, and at least half of her meant it. Or maybe it didn't.

Her hands slid back into his hair. She thought about clenching them there and pulling sharply.

He caught her hands, bound them in one of his, and pushed them over her head. It stretched her out beneath him, like a sacrificial bride. It put a deeper curve to her back and lifted her breast, pressing them up against her blouse and seemingly tightening the thin white cloth across them. The small, faux pearl buttons pulled and he drew back, his dark eyes resting nearly sightless on her flushed face before slowly sliding down.

His stare was like a soft touch, her breasts tightened with the weight of his eyes on them, the nipples becoming clearly defined through the tissue-thin cloth. She saw his intentions before he moved, saw his lust sharpen into hunger, and began to struggle earnestly, her body making small fluttery motions of 'escape', that seemed only to press closer and rub her against him.

It didn't divert him. His hand tightened on her wrists, and he pulled her arms higher, making her breasts push tighter against the cloth.

With a soft, little moan that seemed to jolt through her body, he bowed his head over her and skimmed a fleeting kiss, right over the tip of her left breast.

She gasped, jerking in his hold. His hand tightened reactively, and his mouth came back for another kiss, before he slowly parted his lips and drug his tongue across her.

"Aki! Oh, don't! It's wrong..."

"I don't care," he murmured before he closed his mouth over as much of her breast as he could, and sucked hard through the cloth.

Something like a string pulled tight through her gut, silken heat, liquid honey from his mouth straight through her centre. She _throbbed_ in reaction.

It wasn't enough. He was panting. He drew back, and his free hand grasped the frail cloth of her blouse, wrapped a half-fist in it, then jerked. Buttons popped and spun as she jolted with a startled gasp.

Breaking buttons and ripping cloth seemed more logical then undoing the fastenings one at a time. It parted right down the middle, splitting open to where the waistband of her skirt cinched it. And she shook with the sharpness of his action, feeling something deep inside her trembling at such a physical manifestation of his loss of control.

What a queer moment, to see his loss of control, while he still maintained _control_ of her. For a long moment she stared up at the star-studded ceiling and just...breathed.

Her stomach caved as cool fingers slid slowly up her torso, skimming the skin just barely and leaving desperate shivers in their wake. They teased around the underside of her breasts, following the lines of her bra, tickling the boundary between cloth and flesh. He breathed slow and warm against the plunging 'v' of her cleavage, watching his own hand touch her. She took a hard breath and paused, warming fingertips kissing the sensitive skin over her frantically beating heart. He leaned slowly down, dragging gold hair over her throat, and placed a chaste kiss right above his fingers.

Then they slid down, pulling the cup of her bra with them.

She squirmed in helplessness and discomfort as the cold air hit her hot flesh, but it didn't last long. His mouth was there. He tucked her bra under her breasts, the cloth no longer supporting, but pushing them up towards him like a sort of offering. He greedily moved to accept, running lips and tongue over her until she was squirming, and whimpering, and pulling at her hands in reaction.

The heat of breath and saliva, the coolness of air that followed, only to be replaced by heat and tongue and teeth again, she found herself shifting on the bed, her hips lifting slightly as her thighs squeezed and relaxed around him, touching rough denim and hot flesh.

And, because it wasn't real, things shifted again. Became less grounded in possibility (though she told herself otherwise, there _was _possibility here. At least, her body seemed to think so...).

But this...

Her arms were behind her back, crossed and bound at the forearms with a belt he had not been wearing before. But that didn't seem to matter. She was on her knees, with her broken blouse still gaping open over her chest.

In the abstract, she knew why she had bound her hands, but her mind still twinged uncomfortably with the thought of restraint. But she didn't pull herself back from the fantasy. She wanted to see where it would lead.

It wasn't as if it were real...

He was kneeling on the bed before her, knees pressed gently against hers. His shirt was still gone, and his hair was ruffled from fingers, hers and his. He still wore his pants, but they remained undone and pulled low, she didn't know why, but the sight seemed more distracting then full nudity. Like the blue made a perfect frame.

He was hard, fully erect and curving unyieldingly against his abdomen. The sight of his readiness swept heat into her face, made her hands shake and curved her fingers slightly. She sank her teeth into her lower lip, harder and harder, as she watched him warily.

Unease and anticipation seemed to build in her stomach. She wasn't so lost in self-deception that she couldn't distinguish both.

He smiled gently at her, casting a boyish tilt to his gold head. "You love me. You want me. Admit it."

She swallowed hard. "No..."

Her eyes had trailed down with the movement of his right hand, watching light fingers play with the hard edge of a nipple. Her hands clenched behind her back, her mouth growing wet.

He didn't push, because they both knew she was lying. He pushed slowly up on his knees until he was above her, hovering close and strong. She tilted her head back to look up at him, her hair falling back over her shoulders and making her shudder.

She watched him breathlessly, wondering where her mind would take her next. There was beauty in love and sweetness, but there was something drugging about pure sensuality. Pure lust. Of not having to worry about consequences, of still being able to tell herself that she tried to say 'no', but could not stop what was happening.

Fingertips rested to either side of her cheeks, then slid back, curving around the base of her skull until his thumbs rested in a line beside her ears. She blinked up at him, but he didn't finish the move by trying to kiss her. He tilted his head back and pushed up further on his knees, with his hands he guided her head forward until her closed mouth was pressed against his chest. When he took a deep breath, that same hard nipple she had watched him trace nudged at her lips.

He held her there and she went still, wondering what exactly she was suppose to do.

"Please," he whispered, and shifted just a little, rubbing that nipple lightly over her lips. Her hands curled at her back as heat pooled low in her stomach. Something about that plea made her want to do whatever he wanted. But she couldn't. Not yet. He had to make her...

With his hands on her head, he guided her face, creating an enticing friction that laced over her mouth and seemed to burn down her centre. The silken hardness of his nipple, the slight roughness to its texture teased at the soft skin of her lips. She felt them loosening, though she didn't part them, and he pushed gently between. The movement of her tongue seemed almost instinctive as it flicked over him. He moaned, his fingers clenching in her hair as he tilted his head back even further, pressing his chest closer to her, and deeper into her mouth.

She remembered what he had done to her, and closed her eyes. She tentatively licked her tongue across the very end, pressing against that strange little shallow depression that made his body twitch and the breath hiss out from between his teeth. She played with that little spot, just to hear him pant and feel his body shift and push restlessly against her.

She pulled back to draw in a few sharp breaths, then let his fingers maneuver her forward again. She closed her eyes and slowly slid her lips over that wet, little nipple, slowly closed her teeth around its edges and lightly clenched them.

He groaned out-loud, a rough sound that seemed to spear right down her body. His hands pushed harder at her skull as his hips bucked once.

It didn't seem conscious, and indeed, when she rolled her eyes up to look at him, she saw his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed in clear pleasure, and most compellingly of all, his lips part as the breath panted through them.

She pulled gently on him with her teeth just to watch him twitch and tighten again. Just to hear that sound again.

She closed her eyes and placed tiny, gentle kisses on his chest.

He wound his hand through her hair, gently pulling, then curved his fingers slowly around the back of her head. He pressed down.

It was a slight pressure, more of a silent direction, and she obliged, sliding her mouth down a little lower. She pressed a loose kiss to his sternum, running the tip of her tongue along the definition of his strength.

He clearly liked that, but he didn't stop there. He urged her a little further down and she froze in place in shock, her mind finally stirring with an idea of where he was guiding her.

She stared with wide eyes and panted against the rise and fall of his stomach. She didn't think it, she resisted the push of his hand in innocent confusion.

He didn't stop. He pushed harder, and lifted up on his knees at the same time, and suddenly his hard length was nudged against her cheek.

She jerked, but he held her in place, a soft moan escaping his lips as her marginally cooler skin rubbed against that hot, slightly moist part of him. She tried to pull back, but his gentle fingers were suddenly like steel bands around the back of her skull.

"Please," he gasped, and she felt him shaking beneath her cheek, in the fingers clenched in her jaw. "Aya, please!"

And she marveled at the desperate, begging tone to his voice. Wasn't he the one in control? Wasn't he the one holding her in place and trying to make her do this?

She stopped struggling and leaned her forehead against the sharp edge of his hip-bone, felt him rub against her cheek with the quickness of his breath, and his shaking...

_Neither of us are really in control, are we?_


	78. Feline

78. Feline

It was a realization, and it echoed through her true mind, even as it echoed through the fantasy.

And it _was_ just a fantasy. She was enjoying the tormented sound of his voice. The desperate force of his need for her. This was all of her making, and in the middle of her game, she couldn't fear where her mind wanted to take her.

One hand combed her hair back from her face, wrapping the locks around his fingers, then tightening them into a fist and pulling back. His other hand slid along her cheek, her jaw. He took control of her face and guided her mouth to him.

She resisted, but not really. She felt the silken hardness against her lips and closed her eyes.

His hand in her hair wound tighter, holding her in place. His other hand caressed gently over her cheek, then wrapped around himself. He rubbed the very tip back and forth across her closed lips, leaking wetness that cooled in the short absences of his heat.

His brow furrowed, and she shuddered. A distant part of her muttered that this was indecent, but her breasts still tightened all the same. Her nails still dug into her own arms, still twitched with want.

A little more pressure, she clenched her teeth, but he still slid over and between the looseness of her lips. It was a strange texture and pressure. And a strange smell, like salt, and the clean sweetness of his skin. She imagined he would taste exactly like he smelt. Her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, seeming to grow thick and wet. Her body felt curiously the same.

He rubbed against her teeth and his breath hissed, his fingers flexed. "Aya, please," he begged, the need in his voice almost pain. "Please, please..."

She took a breath and slowly loosened her jaws. She hesitated a moment, and wondered if this was even possible. Then she opened her mouth and quickly flicked her tongue over him before she could reconsider what she was doing.

He jerked, his head tossing back with a strange mix of pain and relief as he groaned aloud.

He _did_ tasted exactly like she remembered. Like salt and faint soap, and something fragrant that she could only describe as...'sex'. A pungent scent, that wasn't quite sweet, but it still seemed to pull strings in her body until she was throbbing, until she felt half-desperate herself.

She wanted to taste it...

She wanted to roll in it and moan...

She made a little sound in her throat, and this time leaned eagerly forward, brushing lips in teasing kisses over the tip. He panted, his legs and thighs shifting a little as he tried to press closer to her, tried to gain more friction. She teased him with a quick lick across his weeping slit, and wondered how long she could torment him before she forced him to take the situation more firmly in his hands. She liked seeing him at her mercy, especially with the illusion they had made with her bound hands, but the thought of him taking control, of her forcing him ruthlessly to that point..._excited_ her.

She had a flash of it in her mind, and hummed because she couldn't not make some sort of noise.

And because it wasn't a conscious thought. He really seemed to like that, because his hand in her hair pulled her closer, and she felt him shift above her.

Opening her eyes she looked up the line of his body and a distant part of her considered the strangeness of this new angle. He raised on his knees, one hand in her hair and his hips pressed close to her face. But his back was an interesting curve, arced and his head fallen back in clear pleasure.

The indecency fell right out of her mind as she mentally imagined the graceful curve of his back. Of the picture they must present in silhouette, and how much he was clearly enjoying this.

She wished her hands were free so she could touch him, but she was glad that she didn't have to make that choice. She couldn't be certain what she would do then. She realized she had gone still to imprint this image, and felt him growing impatient. He made his impatience clear by shifting his hips in a small circle and bumping his length gently over her nose.

She closed her eyes and pushed up a little, just enough to close her lips over the end and slowly slide back. She traced her tongue over the shallow line that ran from the underside.

"Aya!" She made a gasping sound as he suddenly pushed deeper into her mouth. It didn't seem planned, as he just as quickly pulled back to let her breathe. He was panting, his thighs tightening and shaking as he fought not to push again.

She lifted eyes just only slightly wet to meet his, knowing his eyes would be open now.

They were, but the blue was so dark that they were almost violet. The pupil so dilated that it almost swallowed everything. She watched his eyelashes sweep lower, watched him try to put apology in that gaze, but there was so much desperate pleasure and need that it didn't quite work.

She loved that he tried. She wanted to reward him.

Holding his eyes, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth again, swirling her tongue around him. But she didn't stop there, she couldn't stop, not when he looked at her like that, all desperate and lost and so in love. Not when he gave her such perfect reactions.

Not when he made her feel like this...

So she drew back slowly, then slid forward again, taking him deeper. It was easier, now that he was so wet. Now that she was getting used to the feel of him in her mouth, and her jaws were beginning to relax as the surprise wore off. As her resolve grew.

She didn't know much, but she knew a little from whispered conversations with girlfriends, from over-hearing shocked giggles in gym class. No, she didn't really know, but it didn't seem to matter. Judging by the way he reacted, she was doing something right.

And..._she wanted to._ She couldn't understand the mechanics, he wasn't really touching her, nothing was being _done to her_. But her body didn't seem to agree. The feel and taste of him. The sound of his breaths, the little catches in his throat that were almost whimpers.

And the way he trembled for her. _Just for her._ It filled her body with heat and fire, made her hips shift, her thighs clench. Made her moan aloud when she heard him do the same.

She pushed down a little deeper and sucked in at the same time, and he bucked wildly. He lost his balance and fell back, but quickly caught himself on his hand, and she decided she liked this position, with him leaning back on his hands and his hips thrust forward. She sucked him down, and then up again. And then did it again. Not allowing him the moment to regain his composure and pull himself back up. He cried out-loud, rocking his hips up to meet her, and she closed her eyes with a moan, feeling her throat tightening and vibrating around the sudden intrusion of his hard length inside her. He arced his hips more, pushing deeper on the up-stroke and obviously deciding to use his new position to gain more control of how fast and far she took him.

Something almost feline uncurled inside her, and she decided to counter him by pushing things even farther. Employing her tongue and mouth, she licked him, sucked at him, murmured half words and moans as she thrust up and down his straining erection at a faster, harder pace.

He really did whimper, and she glanced her eyes up just a moment to catch the sight of him throw his head back on a sharper cry. Then she couldn't pay attention to that, she had a wild, struggling thing under her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and pushing against her breasts.

"Aya! Aya!" he gasped, "Oh stop, please, I'm going to-!" But he didn't stop, and she didn't let him. She sucked harder, tightening her mouth on him and thrusting down faster. Something violent in her rising at his words, and she wanted it! She wanted it all!

When _it _happened, she wasn't prepared. It happened almost without warning. She had a half-split-second to register that he pushed deep inside her mouth and suddenly stopped, before he convulsed and thick, hot liquid struck the back of her throat in spurts. It was too far back to really taste, but when he quickly pulled back so as not to gag her, he was still coming. Thin, wet lines on her tongue, drops fell on her lips and chin, and as she panted, as she tried to catch her breath again, her tongue slid out seemingly on its own, and licked the drops up.

He was panting, too. He weakly pushed up and alternately fell limply to rest back on his knees. His upper-body slumped forward, shakily curving over her. His thighs were still shaking, his hands, and glistening lines of saliva and his essence trickled down his softening length. With a hazy feeling in her stomach and mind, she leaned down and began to clean him. She didn't decide to.

It was clearly too much too soon, because he made a sound in his throat that wasn't quite pleasure, and curved his body tighter over her. All his muscles clenching. Then he weakly caught her face between shaking hands and tried to pull her off of him.

She sucked harder, not wanting to let go of this feeling yet. Because this feeling was keeping the guilt away.

He quickly let go of her head, because the next step was pulling her hair, and he clearly didn't want to hurt her. But he shifted his legs and let himself fall back on the mattress. She drew back at that curiously, lifting her head as her hair fell in tangled locks over her eyes.

He had sprawled himself out before her on the bed like a willing sacrifice. His legs and arms limp, hands open as his head had fallen in profile to expose the vulnerable length of his throat to her. His bare chest was rising and falling rapidly, just beginning to slow as he was allowed to finally draw deeper breath. His jeans had pulled down to his knees, and he was spilled to the side, resting against the hollow of his own hip and still leaking wetness.

She tilted her head, and regarded the scene with a deep sort of curiosity. She straightened, pushed up on her knees to get a better view. She decided it looked especially lovely, this queer picture he made. Spent passion and languidity, framed by tangled sheets.

She wanted her hands free, so they were. She crawled up the length of his body, dipping her head lower than her shoulders in a strangely slinking, cat-like move. It was part innate sensuality, and part reaction to the desire that still throbbed within her, seemingly weighing her muscles down, but pleasantly so. It drug the ends of her hair over him, his calves, his knees, the sweat-slick of his thighs where he twitched and moaned helplessly. Then she lifted her head just a little to watch his face through her bangs, and her breasts skimmed over his lower-stomach, her nipples already hard, but now twinging with sparks of pleasure.

"Aya," he whispered, closing his hands in fists at his sides as he shook. His body tightened all-over beneath her, but it was still too soon. She didn't mind. It filled her with that feline amusement, pushed that throb lower into her stomach where it began to slowly burn.

She pulled herself up, hovering just far enough above him that she knew he could feel the heat of her body, so that the sharper rise of his chest brushed the very tips of her breasts over him. She braced her hands in the sheet to either side of his head and stared down.

It was a trap. A sensual trap that she made with her arms and legs, and eyes. His slowly opened and she knew hers did a slow blink that had some translation in the language of the body, because his lips parted, and he licked them in a way that she knew was an answer.

She didn't consciously speak that language, this was still so new to her. But she relaxed into instinct and let it pull her forward, let her thighs cage his hips as she slowly closed her mouth over his and mouthed more yielding words. Their kisses were lazy and wet, but there was something infinitely beautiful about that, and she sank her weight against him with a warm sigh, sliding her hands into his hair and catching her fingers in soft tangles. How curious, to be so warm and languid, like her muscles were honey, and the warmth of his body was melting her into thick, sweet liquid.

She sighed in pleasure against his mouth.


	79. Contradict

79. Contradict

Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared up at the ceiling, not quite understanding what she was seeing. But not caring to either. Desire could be sharp and uncomfortable, but right now it was like a gentle wave lapping over her body, ebbing and flowing with the slow thickness of her heart-beat.

Her hands were limp and open at her sides, and she slowly lifted one, resting just her fingertips on the exposed skin of her throat, right under her jaw. She felt the strong, steady throb of her pulse there, felt it stretching all the way down.

She had fallen back on the bed from her sitting position, leaving her legs to still dangle loosely over the edge. Her knees were parted slightly and her hand dragged slowly down over cloth. Then further. She smoothed the skirt down between her thighs, and her eyes fluttered closed and open as the heel of her palm kneaded against her throbbing sex.

_Aki..._

She bit her lip, pressing a little harder.

The water switched on in the bathroom with a muffled rush. She hesitated, turning her head slowly like a hunting animal, and slitted open her eyes. She focused with a strange dreaminess on the door. Heard the shower curtain rustle and close. Placing both hands down on the bed, she slowly pushed up, leaned on her arms and continued to stare at the door.

A long moment where she seemed to listen to her own breath, then she got to her feet, her moves feeling oddly smooth, and almost muted.

She had felt close to this before, hadn't she? A dreamy, soft hunger to her mind...

Her pace across the floor was unhurried, but intent. And she couldn't seem to focus her eyes on anything but that door. She didn't even try. Didn't _want_ to. She didn't even really see it. She saw Aki, wet ivory and gold; flushed, sweet skin that could be hers. She _wanted _it.

She lifted one hand to the door, and then the other. She rested her body flush against it, closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to it, as if leaning on a lover's breast. She listened to the distant fall of water and felt her palms heating the cold wood beneath.

_Aki..._

_I want._..

Her right hand slid slowly down, dragging over rough, pitted wood, until her fingertips found the much colder surface of metal. She left them there for a long moment, as if to learn the feel of this isolated moment, then cupped her hand loosely around the knob.

She tightened her fingers to turn.

_You do this, and that's it,_ her inner-voice whispered without inflection. _You can have your dream, but be very sure you are ready to pay the price._

She didn't understand. She didn't understand concepts like 'consequences' at this particular moment.

_You won't be able to turn back. He won't let you go. Do this. Let him inside, and this will be the path you walk for life_...

She hesitated.

_Don't misunderstand,_ her mind continued, _I'm not telling you to stop. I'm just telling you what will be. You can walk this path with him, but it will be a path that will isolate you both from the rest of the world. Forever._

She opened her eyes and stared at that. Not picking the words apart or absorbing them, but something did stir in her mind. An understanding of some sort. Though she couldn't call it that at the moment.

We are already isolated from the world. The Mikages have made us this way.

Then the fleeting, seemingly non-linear thought: _Aki is all that is real anymore...He is the only comfort in my life..._

She didn't turn the knob, but didn't let it go either. The soft eddying of her desire was beginning to wash away...

_Are you in love with him_?

Her inner-voice seemed to think the answer to that would decide everything. But that was the one questiion she had no idea how to answer.

He seemed confident that she was, but how could he know? How could she tell? She loved him. She desired him.

But there was a line between 'love' and 'in love'. The desire seemed to make it harder for her to decide which side of the line she stood on.

That was her true hesitation, not guilt or shame.

Because whomever Aki gave his heart to-he deserved all of them in return. She couldn't be with him now, only to later realize that her feelings did not run as desperate and deep as his. Because being with him, and then not being with him...

It wouldn't be like any other boy. She couldn't bear a true rift between them. She _had_ to know for certain. She couldn't risk everything on something as fleeting as lust.

Because, to be together in this world that would not understand them, they would both have to be very strong. And lust would quickly collapse under pressure.

_I don't know. I loved him before. I desire him now _(she still quailed at consciously admitting that).

With the combination of those two elements, how could one possibly push through them to see if that deeper emotion was there? How can you even tell the difference?

She let go of the knob, dropped her hand slowly to her side.

You couldn't. Not while you were so close to the situation, not while lust tinted your perception, so you couldn't tell if the love you felt was affection for a brother and friend, or the desperate strength of feeling one would have for a mate.

She turned her head slowly against the door and closed her eyes. She brought her hands up and rested palms and forearms against the wood as she leaned there and just...breathed.

The dull throb of desire was falling to pain. It was equal parts unfullfilment, confusion, and sadness.

She saw no path through this, and she feared the decisions she would make. The ones she would make in distraction and as a puppet to emotion, and the ones she would make in her attempts to sort truth from un-reality.

Maybe she even feared the decisions she would not, _could not_, make. Indecision could be a torment. For them both. But what else could she do? She kept deciding. She kept telling herself she did. She told herself she was firm. But he kept undermining her decisions, ignoring them, and countering them. And he had every right to-

She took away hope with one hand, then gave it back with the other. She said 'no' with her lips, but still reached and pulled him close with the force of desire in her eyes.

It was no wonder he didn't quite believe her 'no's'. She didn't quite mean them. And he could hear that. She knew he could. She didn't know how to stop...

_I do know that...thoughts like that...don't help at all_.

Her already closed eyes scrunched with something like pain, her brows slanting down in a decidedly unfamiliar expression.

_Thoughts like that...only make me want him more..._

_They make it harder for me to care about what's wrong or right._..

It is wrong.

Right?

She had never really had what you would call an attentive moral compass. She believed in wrong and right. But she just wasn't fanatical about it. But now...She waited for a solid answer, a solid pointing of the needle in one direction.

And nothing happened.

Nothing was _guiding_ her...

How could her conscience seem just as hesitant as she was?

_Emotions are not ruled by morality, despite how we might wish that to be so. Emotions are about need and instinct, and the purity of the id. That's why you cannot hold one decision firm..._

_You really do keep sabotaging yourself..._

_It makes you wonder, doesn't it?_

She decided she didn't want to know.

_It makes you wonder what exactly it is you are fighting. Not him, clearly. Not really. But yourself._

_But what part of yourself-that is the question._

Leaning her forehead against the door, she tilted her chin down and sighed. She splayed her fingers on the wood and actually felt as if she were pushing at it. Maybe not to get in, maybe just to physically do something while her mind felt like it was stuck in place.

She really couldn't say either way.


	80. Reprieve

**80. Reprieve**

Maybe a reprieve was best, but he wasn't sure if he could actually pull it off. When he came out of the bathroom and saw her in the kitchenette attempting to cook, he couldn't help but think how cute she was in her uncharacteristic domesticity.

And it took a stronger will than he ever knew he possessed not to go to her and slide his arms around her waist. Bury his face in her hair.

Especially when things clearly did not go as planned and she vehemently cursed, stomping her little foot. Aya wasn't meant to cook, but it was so adorable that she tried. He wandered over to the table and sat down to observe. Or, to be completely honest, cradle his chin in his hand and..._gaze_ at her.

Her shoulders drew in tight when she heard the chair scrape against the floor, then she slowly relaxed. She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"What exactly are you doing," he asked in soft amusement.

She looked back at the stove, and he knew she was giving it a glare as if some uncooperative enemy. "I am trying to make supper, but the water is being difficult."

He blinked at that, trying to unpuzzle that sentence, but not quite being able to decipher it. He slowly sat up. "Um..._the water_...?"

"Don't you laugh at me," she growled distractedly. Her heart clearly was not in it.

He flattened his voice out to something bland. "What is the evil water doing?"

She snorted. "It's not 'what' it's doing-it's what it's NOT doing. Why does it take water so freakin' long to boil? I wanted to get this done before you got out," she growled.

His eyebrows slowly raised, he sat in silence for a long, long moment. She suddenly spun around and pointed her spoon right at him. "I told you not to laugh at me!"

He gave her his most bland look. It clearly said, 'who's laughing'.

"Don't give me that," now dropping her weapon of choice to rest her fist on her hip. "I know that look from you."

Now he tried to look pleasantly curious, but her eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to win at tact, so he gave up and smiled at her. "The trick to boiling water is not to watch it," he informed gravely, as if he was imparting some great wisdom on her.

"I know that," she said, and the splash of pink across her nose was just too cute. He wanted to lick it.

He glanced past her, then returned his eyes to hers with clear meaning. "Well, apparently it works."

And just as she was meant to she looked behind her and squealed, quickly taking the water off the burner before it could boil over. He watcher her random movements around the kitchen that she generously called 'making supper'.

He could offer to help, but Aya at task was just as likely to run him over as accept.

Besides, it was entertaining.

"Quit that," she muttered, dumping something in the water, then stirring.

He curled his fingers against his cheek. "Hmm?"

"Quit watching me..."

And just like that, the facade of normality was gone. He gave a silent sigh and sat up. He couldn't pretend everything was okay if she wouldn't join in his act.

She sighed aloud, stopping right in her frantic movements to stare at the floor. She clutched the spoon at her side.

"I'm sorry. I know you're trying. I'm...I'm not really upset..."

Well, this was curious. He sat slowly back in the chair, tilted his head and regarded her turned back. Then something seemed to come back to him.

"Last week, when you were acting so strangely, and I thought you were sick..."

He watched her shoulders stiffen again, watched the spoon in her hand shake.

"You knew...?" Though she had just answered him, with the sudden rigid tension of her whole body. There were details about this situation that he didn't quite understand. Like what exactly tipped her off about his feelings...

Not that he was sorry. Not now...But his mind was piecing together a timeline, lines connecting shadowy dots, knowing these dots represented 'important events', even if he wasn't quite sure what some of them were.

He didn't worry, he would somehow get that information from her.

With slow, deliberate movements, she reached out and stirred what his mind randomly told him was ramen. It was inconsequential detail so he forgot it as soon as he realized it. He was more concerned with the amount of importance she seemed to be trying to force into such an action. It told him she was still determined to make him work for his answers.

And _that_ told him that those answers were definitely worth working for.

But there was a proper time for everything, and he decided this wasn't it. She was radiating a prickly sort of presence. Something that screamed 'will retaliate, if pushed'. He slid the question to the back of his mind for later, and decided to reign their conversation back in to something more innocent.

"I hope you make mine spicy," he said mildly, sharp eyes watching to see if she was ready now to help him put on that act.

He watcher her consider it, then decide to follow him around that conversational bend.

"Of course," the exasperation in her voice was only slightly strained. She swallowed and turned off the burner. "It is the only way you'll eat it."

Such certainty in her knowledge of him-it made him happy. But, at the same time, it strangely make him want to surprise her. He hadn't known he was like this before. That he _could_ be like this. Playful, passionate...completely in love. Now he understood why people chased so desperately, all their life even, for the intangibles of this feeling. Could you even say that he lived before?

He gave a wry smile at that, ducking his eyes in dry amusement. _Now I see where the phrase 'fools in love' comes from. And yet, I can't seem to mind._

Though she told him not to watch her, he found himself doing it anyway. It wasn't as if he could really help it. She was what he wanted to look at. What he _wanted_. In that sense, his eyes instinctively stalked her. And if he even tried to look away, he knew it would only work so long as she kept completely still.

And Aya could not be still. It wasn't _in her nature_.

He followed her movements as she prepared their simple dinner, as she clearly hesitated a short moment then turned and came to the table.

He shifted as she approached, turning in the chair to face the setting she would occupy. He decided he liked this small table, and the gentle intimacy it implied.

Though another part decided that he would like the small table better if it was completely gone.

Her chair seemed loud as she pulled it out, her skirt rustled as she sat down.

_Everything you do is so cute,_ he wanted to say, but held his tongue. Knowing as true and gentle as those words would be, they would still make her uncomfortable.

Again, she lifted her chopsticks and waited patiently for him to do the same. Her mannerisms amused him. He obliged her silent prompt, and habitually swept up some noodles.

He let the silence wrap a thoughtful cocoon around them as they ate.

_This has been a strange day_, he decided. _And oddly long_. _But at the same time, too quickly approaching tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have to share her with others. Tomorrow I will have to go hours without seeing her._

It wasn't a welcome thought, but necessary. And it made him want to hold on to these last few hours for as long as he could.

Even if all they did was continue this strange sort of push-pull non-fight they had fallen into.

"Is it okay," she broke the silence hesitantly. Whether her caution came from doubt in her culinary skills, or the thoughts such silences generated, he could not determine. But this did not bother him, he would answer her.

"Perfect," he said brightly, smiling at her, though to be honest, he couldn't focus much on the taste. "You have truly out-done yourself this time."

"Oh stop," she said, though a little quirk tilted up the left side of her mouth. "Don't try to flatter me like some _boy_. It isn't any better than normal, and you know it."

"Well, I disagree. It is better, because you made it for me. And...I _am_ a boy. Am I not suppose to act like one?"

She gave him a measuring look, as if to gauge the amount of flirtation in his voice. And maybe how to counter it?

"No," she finally said slowly. "You are suppose to act like my brother. That is a different breed all-together."

He fell into silence again, wondering if she kept drawing back from 'normalcy' because she had something she wanted to say. He would talk about it if she really wanted to. But it had to be her decision this time.

She looked down at her ramen, poked and prodded at it as if searching for something. She wasn't going to find it in her food, he knew. She took a deeper breath, not quite a sigh yet, but the echo of one.

"I'm sorry, I am trying to put it out of my mind, but I'm clearly not as good at it as you are..."

Looking down at his own bowl, he frowned. "I'm not 'good at it'," he said. "I am just pretending, because I thought that was what you wanted. I can promise you that...You, and me, and what we are, and whatever we will be in the future, is all I can think about. I'm sorry I gave you that impression, but I thought that's what you wanted...?"

She lowered her chopsticks, staring with blind eyes at the steaming bowl between her hands. "To be honest," she whispered, "I don't really know what I want. Not like...I _don't_ want...But more that I want so much, so many different things...that I can't tell which want is stronger. And which ones are even possible..."

He watched her, feeling a little breathless. This girl was so much. So, so much. Too much for some. But for him, these strange and unapologetic ways she tended to speak, to move, to _live_...only made his heart beat faster with love and want. "That's why I wish you would talk to me. I can help you, Aya."

She sighed, smiled weakly at the same time. "I know you think you mean that, Aki, but you're not an objective outsider in this situation. You wouldn't mean to, but you would still try to lead me onto the path that you want." She shook her head gently, swaying her gold hair from side to side. "I wouldn't blame you, either. We want what we want. I would do the same if I were you, with probably less subtlety..."

He didn't refute any of it, it was all likely true. "You can still talk to me. Still listen to me. You can decide what will help, and what is just my selfishness. I want to...make this easier on you, if I can..."

"You can't," a simple statement, but it still hurt. "I don't think that something like this is suppose to be easy. Things that come easy don't really mean anything..." She looked up at him now. "The more I struggle with this...it's only because you mean that much to me. You understand that, right?" But then she continued before he could even answer. "You want to know my thoughts?" she offered, then continued yet again before he could properly open his mouth to speak. "Can you listen to me without trying to influence me? Can you just hear what I have to say without speaking in defense, or...or... _seduction_?"

That was an honest question, and he wasn't sure how to answer, except with the whole truth. "I don't know," he said bluntly. "The only thing I can promise you is to try, Aya. But shouldn't I be allowed to offer my opinion? I can promise to hear what you have to say. I can promise to consider it, to try to look at it from a subjective angle, but how could I possibly promise not to react or respond?"

"You can't," she said, "and I understand. But now that leaves me with trying to figure out what I can risk saying, and what I can't. What am I strong enough to deal with. And what I'm not. Words cannot be taken back, Aki...And I am not a strong person..."

He was surprised at that, he blinked at her. "You are," he said quietly, but with real conviction. She gave him a corner-eyed look that said 'don't patronize me.'

"You are, Aya. You are the strongest person I know. You are actually trying to think this through, while I just gave in. You are brave, and compassionate, and you think for yourself, and that's why I don't know why you are so concerned with what I might do or say in reaction-it won't matter. Because you will still make your own decisions."

She shook her head, then covered her forehead with her hand, thumb and middle finger rubbing into her temples. "Aki, you just don't get it, do you?" She dropped her hand, took a deep breath, then looked at him squarely. "There is more at stake then 'will I, won't I'...And what you say and do will _always_ matter to me. You are my brother and my best friend. Of course it matters. Because _you_ matter.

"I love you. And that's why this is so difficult. These are my thoughts, this is my struggle. I love you. I want you. But am I _in love_ with you? And is that love strong enough to live outside the norms of society...

"You would think I would know myself better than this. That one would be able to tell the difference. The desire makes everything so much harder. If I could just separate myself from it enough, maybe I could figure it out, but how do I do that?"

He bit his lip to caution himself to silence, for as long as he could. But he could feel words piling up in his throat, just waiting for the moment when he lost the reigns on his mouth.

She wasn't looking at him now. She had placed her elbow on the table, with her cheek not exactly cradled, but pressed against her palm. She was staring down at the tabletop, clearly without seeing it.

"But if I could just shove the desire away, then that would be the answer all on its own, wouldn't it? But I can't. I've tried..." Her cheeks pinkened slightly, but not with embarrassment, she didn't even seem aware of the reaction. His hands curled into fists as she continued.

"So, it comes back to that. I love you, but am I _in_ love with you? And how can I honestly tell?" She shook her head. "That's not even considering if a relationship is actually possible. Even if we love each other-could we really be together? Can I live with what _really _being with you would mean?"

She snorted, "I don't think I'm a very good person. That last question doesn't seem near as important as all the others..."

She took a breath, looked at him.

He looked back. Her expression was expectant, but she had asked him not to respond. So, of course, in true Aya-style, she wanted a response from him. But she was going to have to ask him for it. He hadn't exactly promised, but he did want to prove something here.

As he sat there and did not speak, she frowned, tilted her head curiously. "Well...?" She prompted.

"Well, what?"

"Don't you have something to say?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Of course, are you saying you want to hear it?"

She frowned when she realized she was contradicting herself. But, as per usual, she let the realization of contradiction slide right off and went with her true self.

"I am not saying I _want_ to, but maybe I need to...?"

Not good enough. "Yes or no, Aya," he said calmly. No more of these half-answers. There were too many of them already.

A spark of frustration made her narrow her eyes, but she spoke distinctly. "Yes."

Even in a different context, even so grudging, that 'yes' sounded compelling to him. She had said so many 'no's' lately, not with just her voice, but with her body, that he savored the taste of at least one verbal positive from her.

Because many more times she had said 'yes', but never out-loud. He wanted to hear more of it. He was _going_ to hear more.

Because it was so clear that she _was_ in love with him. The answer was in how desperately she was trying to think this through. And the fact that she just..._couldn't_. Couldn't think past her feelings.

But how to tell her that? How to make her see what was so clear to him? How to tell her that she already had all her answers, if she could just get past her denial...


End file.
